


Seeds of Home

by Fyre



Category: The Queen's Thief - Megan Whalen Turner
Genre: Complete, Friendship/Love, M/M, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-18 21:10:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 28,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11298903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fyre/pseuds/Fyre
Summary: For a man who has spent a lifetime as a possession, freedom is a strange and wonderful thing.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I started writing this the week after Thick as Thieves came out. I couldn't help myself :)

We were two weeks into our journey when Costis decided that I needed to learn how to swim.

I think he saw the terror in my face when we encountered our first storm on the Middle sea. I considered telling him that knowing how to swim would be useless in a storm like that, but I stifled the thought. He'd noticed something that scared me and he was doing his best to keep me from being afraid.

When we stopped at one of the islands to replenish supplies, the Captain told us we would remain for a few days and Costis turned on me with a determined look in his eye. There was a beach, he declared, on the edge of a lagoon. That was the perfect place for me to learn.

I followed unresisting, smiling at his enthusiasm, but the moment we reached the water, I remembered why we were there. It was as if I'd been frozen in place, staring at the lapping waves on the pale sands.

Costis didn't notice, stripping off his trousers and tunic and plunging into the waves like a dolphin. It took him several heartbeats to surface and turn and notice the useless pillar rigid on the sands.

"It's shallow," he said, wading back towards me, water swirling around his waist. He put one hand on his hip and offered me the other. "I'll be here with you."

It always amazes me how much reassurance he can offer in only a few words and in a moment, I too was naked in the water, clutching his hand for fear of the currents and the waves.

"Good so far," he said and I looked at him suspiciously for any sign of mockery. There was only that dear, familiar patience and warmth. "Now, do you trust me?"

I licked my lower lip and nodded.

He lifted his other hand to cradle the back of my neck. "Lie back in the water."

I must have flinched because he laughed. "I'll be holding your head up. If you're going to swim, you have to know how to float first."

I made an unflattering face at him. "You could have said that."

"I'm not a very good teacher," he admitted cheerfully, then pressed his fingers in gentle reminder against the back of my neck.

I was shivering as I tipped myself back, but I knew I could trust that warm, firm hand to keep me from sinking. His thumb skimmed the edge of my ear and I could barely see his face, the sun behind his shoulders casting a halo around him.

The moment my feet left the seabed, the panic returned in a torrent and I grasped at his hand desperately, my other hand skittering on his wet skin.

"I'm here," he said again, holding my head safely above the water. "Relax. Just breathe and let yourself float. I've got you."

Easy for you to say, I wanted to cry out. You hadn't half-drowned with your master's fist the only thing keeping you afloat. You hadn't been at the mercy of a man who would have let you sink if you hadn't been useful to him.

But Costis was nothing like Nahuseresh. He would never have forced me into the waves. He offered and asked, but never forced or dragged.

I clung to him, somewhere between gasping and sobbing, and all I could hear was the soothing murmur of his voice as it had been when I was bloody and hysterical in his arms in the desert.

Somewhere in the middle of all of it, I started to float.

He didn't say anything, only turned on the spot, drawing me in a circle in the water, supported only by his arms and the mercy of the sea. I should have been terrified, but his face was over mine, close enough for me to see his smile and the fear slipped away.

His hand slid down between my shoulders and he helped me regain my footing.

"How was that?"

I was still holding onto him and I could see where my fingers would leave bruises come nightfall. His skin was warm and shining and he hadn't let me fall. I looked up at him in consideration and said solemnly, "Wet."

He gave a shout of laughter, then scooped up a handful of water and dumped it unceremoniously on my head. "Wet!" he hooted.

I don't know what possessed me, but I shoved my hand hard against his chest and he pitched backwards under the water. I was scrambling for the shore when he surfaced, laughing and spluttering.

"Wet!" He roared gleefully and somehow cuffed a great torrent of water at me. I swung about, feebly kicking lashes of sea foam in his direction until we were both breathless and giggling like children, swatting water at each other.

When we finally sprawled on the sand, content and spent, Costis propped himself up on one elbow to look at me. "You did well."

I gave him a look. "You don't need to humour me."

"Well," he said amiably, "you didn't sink."

It was true and when we returned the next morning, I didn't hesitate before shedding my clothes and striding into the water. 

Once more, his hand was under my neck and once more, I floated. There was something pleasant to be said for it, drifting and bobbing like a leaf. I barely even noticed when the pressure of his hand beneath my neck slipped away.

When I did notice - and of course I did - the panic tipped me and I went under, arms and legs flailing. It only lasted a second, because his hand was back and his other arm was around my waist. I clung to his arm, breathing hard.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I should have warned you."

I could only nod, but I had to admit, "I was floating, wasn't I? On my own?"

There was pride in his smile and he nodded. "For a while too. If you hadn't noticed-" He shook his head. "I should have warned you."

I knew why he hadn't. He thought I was calmer and that I was capable on the second try. He'd trusted me to manage for a moment on my own. Until I'd noticed the absence of his support, I _had_ been.

He knew I could do it.

"Let me try again," I said, even if my heart was still drumming in my ears and my mouth was dry. "Tell me this time."

Costis nodded at once, supporting my neck to help me lie back again. He waited a long while, eyes on my face, until my breathing was even again and I stopped feeling like a rigid board bobbing in front of him.

"Now..." he murmured and lowered his hand.

I didn't last long, but I lasted long enough to make him beam with approval and when he caught my hand, pulling me back to my feet, I felt as if I had succeeded as great a challenge as crossing the Taymets.

"If you ever find yourself in the water," he said, squeezing my hand, "that's always useful as a start. Stay calm, roll to your back and float if you can."

"Roll to my back," I echoed. "How?"

Costis blinked as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Oh."

"Something like swimming?" I guessed.

"So, so, so..." He scratched his head, frowning in consternation. "Look. I'll show you."

He flopped down into the water, face-down, and somehow managed to roll onto his back and bob to the surface. From the look on my face, he could tell I wasn't sure what he'd done, so he demonstrated again.

"It's like rowing," he said when he straightened up again. "You choose which way you want to turn and use your arms and legs to push you in that direction."

I said I wanted to try, even if I really wanted to run back to the safety of the sand. Costis moved closer and put one hand on my belly and one hand on my back. 

"If you look like you're having trouble, I'll pull you up," he promised.

It made it easier to submerge myself with the warmth of his skin against mine. The first attempt, he dragged me up, sputtering and coughing. It took another five tries before I managed to flail enough with my right arm and leg to flip onto my back, although I choked as water poured into my nose and mouth when I broke through the surface.

"Again," I rasped, once I'd coughed myself clear. If I was going to be any use in the water, I knew I had to push myself and learn what I needed to know.

By the time Costis hauled me back to the shore, I'd managed to roll onto my back and float at least half a dozen times. I had half-drowned myself several times as well, but I was giddy with triumph, even if my legs were shaking and Costis was half-dragging, half-carrying me.

"You're going to sleep well tonight," he said with a rueful chuckle. "I think you tired yourself out well."

"I still floated and rolled," I said happily, sure he was fooling himself if he thought I was tired. I felt I was rising on Anet's chariot and the idea of sleep was so very far away.

Of course, he knew my limits better than I did and when he lifted my head up out of my supper less than an hour later, he was gracious enough not to say I told you so. Instead, he hoisted me over his shoulder like a sack of grain and carried me up the narrow stairs to our room.

I was awake enough to see him as he laid me down on my narrow cot and he sat down on the edge.

"Again tomorrow?"

He cuffed the side of my head fondly. "If you wake up before the tide goes out, then we'll see."

I nodded, my eyes drifting closed. "Thank you."

I felt a brush, warm and soft, on my brow. "Sleep well, Kamet," he murmured close to my skin.

For the first time in many nights, my sleep was dreamless and peaceful.

By the time I rolled off my bed the next morning, Costis's bed was empty and the sun was high. I didn't even need to glance out the window to know the tide would be out and any lessons would be put off until late in the day, if at all. 

Costis was lounging in the courtyard like a lazy cat. I was almost sure he was asleep, but the moment my sandal touched the ground, one of his eyes cracked open, then he sat up with a smile. "He lives!"

I couldn't help smiling. "You're not that bad a teacher."

"So," he agreed, pushing himself to his feet. "Breakfast?"

It was a pleasant day, warm and bright, with the breeze from the sea taking the edge off the heat. Once we had eaten our fill, Costis led me on a wandering path along the coastal trails, pointing out the route we were set to take and how long we could expect it to last.

"I never thought I would willingly go to sea again," I admitted as we sat on a cliff edge, watching the gulls wheeling far below. "I hated it."

"And now, you swim like a fish." I gave him a look. "A drunk fish."

I snorted and jabbed him in the ribs with my elbow. It always made him laugh, seeing how far I was from the man who had bowed and ducked his head and defiantly called him master. Even from the first day we had met, he had seen me as an equal, a freeman, never anything lesser or weaker. I think it pleased him to know I recognised it too.

"I still can't swim," I reminded him. "Rolling over and floating isn't swimming."

"No," he agreed, "but rolling over and floating will keep you alive until I can get to you and get you to safety."

I looked at him, then had to look away. It was still a new feeling, to know he would save me because he cared and because he wanted to, not for any financial or political benefit. He must have noticed, for he flung his arm around my shoulder and pulled me against his side.

"Idiot," he said happily.

"A duck will only fly with other ducks," I retorted, the Mede proverb rising to my tongue unbidden.

Costis leaned his head down and looked me gravely in the eyes. "Quack."


	2. Chapter 2

“I’m not sure.”

Costis glanced back to the edge of the river. “Why?”

Kamet was wringing his hands and Costis had come to recognise that gesture well. Kamet tried so hard to hide his concerns. Years of conditioning, aided by a whip or a rod if his back was anything to go by. Still, every man had his tells and Kamet was far more anxious than Costis had expected.

“Rivers flow,” he finally blurted out. “I- what if-” He shook his head and fumbled with his tunic. “I’m sorry. I’m being foolish.”

Costis wanted to curse aloud at his own idiocy. The lagoon where he’d taught Kamet to float and roll had been calm and still, barely a lick of a tide. The last time they’d plunged into a river, Kamet had been rigid with terror, fighting every step of the way. Costis had - out of fire-driven necessity - bodily tossed him in without pausing to think then. 

Now that wasn’t an option.

Costis waded back to the riverbank, walking up and catching Kamet’s hands where they were shakily fiddling with his buttons. “You don’t need to join me if you don’t want to,” he said as gently as he could. “This isn’t an obligation.”

“I need to learn.” Kamet’s voice was unsteady.

Costis shook his head. “Not like this. You’re too worried. You won’t- it won’t be good for you to learn like this.” 

He glanced back at the water. 

The river was a short walk from the port that was their latest stop. Tomorrow at dawn they would be on the move again. It wasn’t a big river, or especially deep, but he’d been raised to know the streams and rivers near his parents’ farmstead and know when it was safe to swim or not.

“I’m sorry,” Kamet said again, barely above a whisper.

Costis turned back to him with a smile. “Let’s make it simpler. You don’t need to swim today, but if you want to do something, we let you practise moving in a river.”

“Moving…?”

Costis nodded at once, remembering how the smaller man had almost been swept away by the currents more than once. “So you can get used to it before you try to swim. We’ll be moving onto the riverboats when we reach Brael after all.”

Kamet nodded gratefully. “Moving sounds good.” He managed to tug his buttons loose and shed his tunic, shivering as the air hit him. The temperatures were already starting to fall as they turned north, not unbearably yet, but Costis supposed it was much colder than it would have been in Mede. Kamet gave him a careful, nervous smile. “How cold is the water?”

“Not as bad as that gods damned fountain,” Costis replied, stepping back down into the stream and holding up a hand to help Kamet down. 

Paler than usual, Kamet looked so nervous that Costis had to hold on to the memory of the man who walked halfway across the Mede empire with him, crossed the Taymets and barely uttered a word of complaint when his feet bled and his stomach was empty and his mouth dry. 

Costis wondered which god he had crossed or pleased to be bound so easily to small, stubborn and proud men who would suffer pain and violence with barely a sound of complaint. Luck or curse, sometimes he wasn’t sure, especially when he wanted to shake his King until his teeth rattled.

Kamet’s fingers pressed against his, pulling Costis back to the present.

“Don’t let go.”

Costis nodded at once. Kamet asked for so little for himself and when he did ask, Costis knew how much effort it was costing him. “Unless you want me to,” he agreed, helping Kamet step down into the water. He slipped his other arm around Kamet’s waist to steady him and was amused when he heard a Mede curse escape Kamet’s lips.

“ _Almost_ as bad as the fountain,” Costis corrected himself, fighting a smile at the indignant look on Kamet’s face. 

It wasn’t so bad, once they both adjusted to it, and Costis guided Kamet to walk a little deeper, one step at a time. Kamet was clinging to him like a lifeline and was breathing hard, but he still moved, his teeth clenched, his expression fixed in that same stubborn look that he had worn every step across the Taymets.

When they reached the halfway point where the stream flowed fastest, Kamet tightened his grip, leaning closer into Costis’s side. The current wasn’t enough to move Costis, but he had a head in height and much more weight to hold him steady. Kamet was small and barely weighed more than a sack of grain. Maybe it was enough to catch him.

Costis tightened his arm around Kamet’s waist, but whether that was for himself or for Kamet’s reassurance, he couldn’t be sure. 

It took a few minutes more to reach the other side of the river and when they did, Kamet loosed his grip and scampered up onto the sun-warmed shingle on the shore. He spun around, staring back at Costis, then across the river. When he smiled in triumph, it lit his face and Costis couldn’t help smiling in response. 

“Not so bad?” He followed Kamet up onto the bank.

“So,” Kamet agreed, sitting down on the shingle. He picked up a pebble and tossed it into the water. “I don’t think I will ever like it, though.”

Costis laughed, sitting down close by him. “You don’t have to like it, but it doesn’t hurt if you can get across.” He picked up a pebble of his own, then studied the surface of the river for the smoothest part and skimmed the stone. It skipped three times before sinking.

Kamet made a small, sharp sound and Costis looked at him.

“What?”

“How did you do that? The… bouncing on the water?”

Costis raised his eyebrows. “Skimming the stone?”

Kamet nodded eagerly. “Can you do it again?”

It was such a simple thing and Costis grinned. He found a good, flat stone, then scrambled to his feet for a better angle. This time it skipped four times before bouncing off a rock and plopping back into the water.

Kamet was on his feet in an instant. “Show me how to do that!” He blinked, as if surprised at himself, then hastily added, “Please, if you don’t mind.”

Costis had to fight down the stupid grin. It took a lot for Kamet to get excited enough to forget his manners. “Find a smooth, flat stone first, then I’ll show you.”

In less than five heartbeats, Kamet had a handful of stones held out for Costis’s inspection. Only three were flat enough. Costis tossed aside the rest, then motioned for Kamet to watch what he was doing. 

“You want to make the flat side bounce off the surface,” he explained, demonstrating how to hold the stone. “If the edge breaks the surface, then it won’t work. Too hard and it won’t work, too soft and it won’t work.”

“It sounds complicated.”

“Says the man who speaks five languages.” Costis laughed, earning a rueful smile from Kamet. “Look.” He pointed to the smoothest part of the river. “Aim for there, where the surface is even and throw like this…”

It skipped three times and Kamet nodded eagerly, mimicking his stance. 

The first stone smashed straight through the surface.

“Oh.” Kamet frowned at the ripples.

“Not so hard next time,” Costis suggested. “Skim it in low.”

A dozen stones later and many interesting and colourful curses later, Kamet exclaimed in delight. “I did it!”

Costis grinned. It had been a single skip, but for a first experience, it wasn’t bad. “You’ll get better with practise as well.”

“You think so?” Kamet looked down at him hopefully.

“I did.” Costis was sitting on the sun-warmed stones, his arms propped on his knees. “One of my cousins told me I was an idiot when I couldn’t do it. For spite, I went down to the river every day until I could throw better than he could.”

Kamet turned over a pebble between his fingers. “I didn’t know it was something people did.” 

He shook his head and Costis could guess why: for a man who prided himself on his intellect, to find out there were so many things - even simple games - he didn’t know about would take some getting used to. He fished around for something to reassure Kamet, but how could anything he was ignorant of possibly compare to a life spent as a commodity?

“Well,” he said, wishing he had something more helpful to say, “better to learn about it a little bit late than never.” He nodded towards the water. “You’ve done it once. Let’s see if you can do it again.”

Kamet’s expression brightened and he nodded, turning back to the river.

The sun had reached its zenith when they finally headed back across the river. The day wasn’t hot, but there were clouds coming in and Costis didn’t like the idea of emerging from the cold water without the sun to warm them on their walk back to the port.

To his amusement, Kamet grabbed his wrist then strode down to the water, taking the lead. His chin was up, his eyes narrowed, as he stepped back into the water then yelped a profanity that made Costis burst out laughing.

“Still cold?” he said.

Kamet shot a glare at him, then tugged his wrist. “Hurry up. The sooner we get across, the sooner we can get out.”

Costis fought down a grin, shifting his hand so he was holding Kamet’s wrist as firmly as Kamet was holding his. Kamet led them back across the river and if he faltered, uncertain, when the currents rolled around their legs, Costis only tugged his wrist to pull him back on the right path.

Kamet’s skin was raised in gooseflesh when they waded ashore and Costis swept down to grab the strips of towelling cloth he’d thought to bring with them. Eugenides wouldn’t be too pleased if he managed to get Kamet a chill before they even reached the Gulf of Braels.

“Is it going to get colder?” Kamet inquired as he towelled his hair dry. He’d stopped trimming it back once they left Attolia and small wisps were sticking out around his ears and on his crown now. 

“The water or the weather?”

Kamet lowered the piece of towelling and folded it neatly. “Either.”

Costis grimaced. “Both. At least Roa will be warm when we get there.”

Kamet nodded, offering his towelling back to Costis. “And I have boots and trousers in my pack.”

“Well planned,” Costis said, taking the towel back, then reaching up and smoothing the wild tufts of Kamet’s black hair back into some kind of order. Kamet always liked to look presentable and he would hate to walk back into the port knowing his hair was standing in all directions.

Kamet stared at him and Costis hastily pulled his hand back, realising that he’d probably overstepped. 

“Your hair,” he said lamely, realising he could have just said something, instead of pawing - unasked for - at Kamet’s head. “It was sticking up. You couldn’t see it.”

A smile as bright as a flash of lightning crossed Kamet’s face. “Thank you.”

To Costis’s astonishment, Kamet rose on his toes and carefully tucked two strands of Costis’s hair behind his ear. 

Kamet dropped back down to his feet, satisfied, then noticed the look on Costis’s face. If it was possible, he flushed even redder. “You had horns,” he said, holding up one hand with the first and last fingers extended and the middle two folded down. “Like a bull.”

Costis snorted and patted him warmly on the shoulder. “First a duck, now a bull…” He could feel Kamet relaxing under his hand. “At this rate, by the time we get to Roa, you’ll have your own walking farm.”

He wasn’t sure which of them started laughing first.


	3. Chapter 3

I still couldn’t swim well by the time we switched to a boat on the Naden.

I could float, but no matter how much I tried, the best I could do was to flail my way towards shallower water and somewhere I could get a footing. I was proud that I could keep my head above water, but I envied the easy way that Costis dove through the waves.

It didn’t help that the Naden was far wider and deeper than any of the streams I had tried to swim in. With the riverboat keeping to the middle of the river, I stood by the rail, staring out to the distant fuzzy green blur of the bank which seemed an impossibly long way away.

I held onto the rail tightly, wishing we were back on land, skimming stones or tossing water at each other or even just sitting by the edge of the water in happy silence. There was warmth and safety. 

The journey had felt like an adventure while we were on the ship, but now we had moved onto the next stage, it was becoming more real. The river, then the mountains and then Roa, which might be safe or might be dangerous and we had no idea which.

“There you are!” I turned to see Costis making his way across the deck towards me. “I don’t think this boat has a rowing boat behind it.”

I made a face at him. “I don’t need a rowing boat. Don’t you know I can float now?”

His lips twitched. “Of course. The best way to make your escape,” he agreed, then nodded back towards the cabins. “You should come back inside. It’s too cold to stand out here.”

I nodded, looking back out to the bank.

“You could make it,” he said.

I gave him a stern look. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“It’s been said,” he agreed amiably, then wrapped an arm around me. “But staring at it won’t make it come any closer, unless you have some divine powers that you didn’t bother to tell me about.”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “No. Not that I know of.” I let him steer me back down the narrow walkway that led to the cabins. He picked up a small oil lamp as we headed down into the darkness inside the boat.

The boat was considerably larger than Anet’s Dream with several passenger cabins below deck, but kept discreetly out of the way of the holds and the trading goods that filled them. Even if I’d wanted to know what the boat was carrying, the captain’s discretion and security made that impossible.

Our shared cabin was on the left side of the ship and even had a metal-rimmed pane of glass set into the wall. I didn’t like it, not when the water sometimes came so high against the side of the boat that it slapped against the glass. The thought of being in open water was nothing compared to be trapped in a sealed room that was filling up with no means of escape.

This time, when I came in, I stopped short.

Costis had covered the window, hanging his leather outer tunic over it like a curtain. I didn’t know what to say, the emotion welling up in me, and so I only stood and stared like a fool.

“I had nowhere else to put it,” he said, in yet another demonstration of what a bad liar he was.

“I see.” I sat down on the smaller of the two bunks, chapping my hands together. He wasn’t wrong when he said it was too cold. At least now we were heading south and back to the warmer climes of the Ellid sea. It would never be as warm as Mede there, but it was better than the lashing rain and sudden shockingly cold winds of the gulf of Braels.

Costis set his lamp down on the small chest that served as storage and a make-shift table, then sat down on his bunk opposite me. The room was small enough that we could have knocked knees if we sat on the edge of our bunks, but I felt better having him in the same room as me than sleeping alone with nothing but the slap of water on the glass for company.

“They said we can eat in the galley if we want,” he said, stretching out his legs. His ankles brushed against mine and I let them. It was strange how easily I’d become used to it: his hand on my back, his arm around my shoulders, my legs brushing his. Once, I would have recoiled to a respectful distance, but with Costis…

It was different. He was different. I was different.

His hands closed around mine, rubbing them to warm them. “The galley?” he prompted.

“Will it be safe?”

Thousands of miles from the place I had considered my home and the threat it posed, and yet I knew there would still be a bounty on my head. I’d cost the Emperor his fleet. He would never be able to prove it, but the fact that within a month of my escape, the fleet had burned would be evidence enough. 

“Don’t worry. If there’s anyone who is a threat, I’ll pitch them overboard,” he said solemnly and I almost laughed until I saw the look in his eyes. 

I was suddenly aware of the calluses on his fingers rubbing against the smoother skin of my palms and the knowledge that he would do whatever he deemed necessary to keep me safe. It was enough to make my heart beat faster and my breath catch.

I had no words, but I had a dictionary of gestures to speak for me and I bowed over our linked hands until my brow was brushing his thumbs. I felt the twitch of surprise, but he didn’t snort or push me back. I didn’t know if he understood, but he loosened one hand from mine and brushed his fingers gently over the top of my head. 

I think he could understand, even if it was a different language, one he’d never used.

“You’ll be safe,” he said quietly when I lifted my head to look at him. His hand was curled against the back of my skull, his span so wide it covered almost all of the back of my head. “It’s warmer in there.” He offered a quick smile. “They have games.”

Compared to a night sitting in the room and watching the water against the glass, games sounded like a good idea. I nodded and squeezed his fingers, knowing that wherever he was on the boat, I was safest to be by his side.

The galley was busy and noisy when we entered. The difference between this boat and the ship from Attolia was staggering. The ship had a place for passengers and a place for the crew, but the galley here was scattered with everyone. Crew members were playing dice with passengers and chatting animatedly over the their meals. I even saw a glimpse of the captain.

It felt more like a tavern on the docks, rather than the belly of a ship.

Costis touched my elbow to remind me to move, guiding me towards the cabin boy who had the thankless task of standing over a simmering pot to stir it and keep the stew from sticking to the bottom of the pot.

He filled two bowls, each of them thick with steaming gravy and meat.

“The Braelings love of meat seems to have spread south,” Costis murmured as we wove towards a vacant spot at one of the table jammed into the galley. 

I wasn’t about to complain. Fish was well and good, as were the grains and fruits we had picked up along the way, but with the weather as cold as it was - to me at least - a hot and heavy meal felt like it would help.

As soon as we were seated, knocking elbows with fellow passengers, Costis tore a hank of bread into halves, one of which he handed to me. I murmured my thanks, then settled down to eat as quickly as I could without jamming my arms into my neighbours’ sides or letting the stew cool too much. 

I couldn’t help glancing around as we ate, taking in the array of faces. I spotted at least two Medes, judging by their appearance. Even if their clothes, like mine, were more like the local clothes, with thick cloaks and woollen shirts, I couldn’t help wonder if they were something to be worried about. 

Costis must have noticed my stare, because he pressed his arm against my side to catch my attention. I looked at him, startled, and he inclined his head, raising his eyebrows in an unspoken question. _Are you all right?_

I nodded, then slanted a look towards the Medes, who were talking to one another on the far side of the galley, their voices lost in the noise.

“They’re fine,” he murmured, bringing his lips close enough to my ear that his words were barely a breath over the din. “I made some inquiries before we boarded. They haven’t returned to the empire for a decade. They’re known for regularly travelling this river at least four times a year.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realise I’d been holding. “I’m sorry.” I should have known he would take all precautions. It was easier than tipping someone overboard at a later date.

His hand squeezed my thigh and my leg jolted so hard I knocked my knee on the underside of the table. It was enough to catch the attention of our dinner companions and I shot a startled look at Costis, who was rosy-cheeked and gazing virtuously into his dinner.

It was a reassurance, but even if I was used to Costis’s touch by now…

I tried to glower at him for surprising me in front of people and nudged him in the ribs to make sure he noticed it. I saw the pale gleam of his eye darting my way and that tell-tale twitch at the corner of his mouth, so I redoubled the force of the glare.

Costis hid his grin in his stew.

When the food was done and the gravy mopped up with the bread, Costis gestured that he was going to join in one of the games of dice. Out of habit, I gathered up the bowls and returned them to the stack of dirty dishes, then wound my way back through the packed room to Costis’s side.

He was hard to miss, towering over the other players at the table, and he rattled some coins in his hand before rolling the dice for the first time. It seemed his god’s luck was with him. The small pile of coins in front of him grew with each round, half a dozen currencies that I could recognise. 

Gradually, the other players surrendered, withdrawing from the table until only Costis and one other man were left. For someone playing a game of chance, Costis gave off an air of unrestrained confidence.

The last player, a hollowed-faced, pale-skinned Brael, removed an elegant woven band of some kind of metal from his wrist and laid it on the table as his stake. It was surprisingly ornate and very beautiful and Costis heard me catch my breath.

“It’s too valuable,” I whispered to him. “He knows something. He- is it possible to cheat?”

Costis didn’t even look my way. He was smiling placidly. “It’s in the hands of the Gods,” he replied, then held up his hand to me. “Will you blow on the dice for my fortune?”

Feeling foolish, I complied.

I had never been able to follow the rules of the game. To me, when they spoke of their bets and the numbers, they might as well have been using some opaque code. The dice clattered and rolled and there were groans and sounds of appreciation around the table. Costis didn’t look up or turn, simply smiling and rolling, as if he couldn’t possibly lose.

Little by little, Costis’s opponent started winning some of Costis’s horde. He was grinning widely, showing several golden teeth. He beckoned for Costis to lay another bet and there was a great roar from his fellows when he took another handful of Costis’s coin.

The pile was whittled down to almost nothing. 

I pressed my hand to Costis’s shoulder. It would be better to leave the table with the same amount he had brought to it, but I should have remembered how stubborn he could be. He held up his hand to me again. “One last roll.” He tilted his head to look at me. “For luck.”

With my free hand, I caught his wrist and bowed my head, pressing my brow to his knuckles, then blew a breath so close to the skin it might have carried my prayer to the very dice clasped between his fingers. 

Costis was staring up at me when I lifted my head. I could feel my colour rising.

“For luck,” I echoed him.

His face split in a grin and he turned back to the table and shoved everything he had left into the middle of the table. I should have exclaimed in shock, but it came out as a sharp whistle of air and nothing more. “All or nothing,” he said. “One roll.”

His opponent laughed and laid the bet.

The dice tumbled from Costis’s hand, bouncing, bouncing, over and over across the surface of the table. My fingers were digging into Costis’s shoulder. I had a purse of my own, but it would take careful management to get us both to Roa on it.

The dice clattered to a stop.

There was a split-second of silence, then a roar of sound.

I squinted at the dice, trying desperately to see whether to cheer or groan, but I needn’t have bothered, because Costis leapt up and hoisted me up in his arms as if he was about to toss me up in the air, my feet dangling inches off the ground.

“For luck, indeed!” He was beaming and I laughed.

“Idiot!” I knocked him on the calf with one foot, a reminder I was still dangling. He set me back down with a chuckle. “What if you’d lost everything?”

He grinned at me. “But I didn’t.” He turned back to the table to scoop his winnings into his satchel. He considered the handful of metal, tilting his palm to let the coins slide off into the bag. That left the bracelet dangling from his finger. I could see the Brael watching him morosely and hoped we hadn’t made an enemy.

I didn’t have time to think much about it because Costis looked back at me, then smiled and held out the bracelet. 

I looked at it. “It’s beautiful,” I said with a nod. “And probably valuable.”

Costis sighed and held out closer to me. I didn’t know why he wanted me to examine it, but I took it, turning if over to see what I was missing. The Braels were famous for their intricate knots patterned in so many of their designs: woodwork, needlework, metalwork. I wasn’t sure what metal it was made from, but the knot designs were so delicate it looked like it had been woven from strands of silk and felt as light as well. It was a magnificent piece. No wonder the Brael looked so gloomy about losing it.

I held it back out to Costis, who raised his eyebrows, puzzled. “Aren’t you going to put it with the rest?” I asked.

Costis took it, but before I could withdraw my hand, he caught my forearm and in a blink, had slid the bracelet onto my wrist.

My heart thundered in my chest as I stared at his hand, wrapped around my wrist and the bracelet that now decorated it. The only piece of jewellery I had ever worn was my golden chain, put around my neck to mark me as property. I had never- it was never my place to wear anything beautiful before. 

I looked up at him, bewildered. “It’s yours,” I said stupidly.

He smiled. “Your luck won it,” he replied. He lowered his hand and I cradled my wrist and my new bracelet, the metal and my skin side by side. He added, a little gruffly, “Anyway, I don’t think it would fit past my fingers.” 

I curled my fingers around both bracelet and wrist. “Thank you.”


	4. Chapter 4

Day after day, the world slid by.

Costis was bored.

On the sea, it could be interesting with islands dotted here and there and strange creatures surfacing by the hull of the ship and disappearing back under the waves. On the Naden, the boat moved at a slow and stately pace, negotiating the shallower beds of the river as they drifted by small villages and more forests and fields.

The journey had been broken by stops for deliveries at riverside docks along the way, but the captain warned them there was little time for them to sight-see and if they wandered away, they might miss the boat casting off again. Passengers came and went with each of the docks, but even the scoping the new arrivals was only a brief distraction.

After several days, it must have started to show on his face.

“Would it be faster to take horses?”

Costis pulled his attention from the grain of the cabin ceiling to look over at Kamet, who was seated cross-legged on the other bunk. “What?”

“Horses,” Kamet repeated. “Is it faster to go overland or stay on the boat?”

Costis pushed himself up into a sitting position, then twisted his legs down off his bunk and leaned back against the wall. “It’s better for us to stay on the boat for the terrain that lies ahead.”

“Even if you hate it?”

Costis grimaced. “Sometimes, you have to accept there will be sand in your meal, but you still eat the meal.” 

Kamet smiled crookedly. “Or you can ask the cook to stop putting sand in it.”

Costis made a dismissive gesture with one hand. “It’s more like being in the desert. You take what you have as the best option. Horses would be impossible. There are swamplands further south and many of the forests are untracked. The river is the clearest route for us.”

Kamet nodded. He was idly toying with his bracelet, turning it around his wrist with strokes of his index finger. More than once in the past few days, Costis had seen Kamet looking at it with a strange expression on his face, but he’d never seen Kamet take it off.

Costis wanted to believe that if he’d done something wrong or offensive in giving Kamet the bracelet, Kamet knew him well enough now to tell him. The fact that Kamet kept it on was comforting, but then he had kept on his chain much longer than he’d needed to out of some kind of strange obligation. 

“Are we going to stop at any towns for more than a few hours?” Kamet asked suddenly.

Costis nodded. “There’s a town called Zin coming up soon. Tomorrow, if the winds are good. It’s a large trading hub, according to the captain. He said there will be more goods taken off and brought on there, so they usually stay for two nights and a day. After that, it should only be a few days more.”

“Good.” Kamet looked back down at his wrist, turning the bracelet again.

Costis wanted to ask if it was uncomfortable or too big, but to do so would alert Kamet to the fact Costis had been watching him closely enough to notice how much he was playing with it. 

It was meant to be a simple gift, but with Kamet, it was very difficult to know how he would take it. Even Aris was bad enough at accepting a token from someone he considered one of his betters, out of some sense of social obligation. Costis had no idea where Kamet would place himself in that situation. 

Would he consider it his duty to accept a gift? Or did he really like it? He’d admired it, certainly, but that didn’t mean he wanted it, and now, Costis was back thinking in circles. He hadn’t felt so confused since he’d started to unravel a little of the mystery of his King. 

In the end, he didn’t say anything and Kamet continued to toy with the band of metal when he was distracted. 

By the time they reached Zin, late the next afternoon, Costis was more than delighted to have a chance to think about something else. They were standing by the rail as the town came closer and Costis didn’t even have to say anything when he glanced down at Kamet and raised his eyebrows. Kamet smiled like the sun and nodded.

A night off the ship was a luxury to be savoured. Costis - with Kamet trotting rapidly behind him - found a decent inn, requested meals for later in the evening and asked for directions to the nearest bathhouse.

When they found it, he and Kamet stood outside, staring at it doubtfully. It was a large wooden house on the edge of the town, close to the place where the foothills started to rise. It looked nothing like a bathhouse, although there were curls of steam eking out from beneath the door. Costis was more concerned by the disturbed bank of snow that spread behind it. 

They exchanged a look, then looked back at the building.

“He said it was here…” Kamet said dubiously.

“He did,” Costis agreed, then leaned sideways at a clatter from the back of the house. He darted around the edge of the building, then gaped in astonishment as a flush-skinned sweating Brael man tumbled himself in the disturbed snow. 

Costis was back at Kamet’s side in a heartbeat. “No,” he declared.

“What is it?” Kamet asked, squinting over his shoulder as Costis firmly steered him back towards the town. 

“Snowmelt was bad enough,” Costis replied. “I’m not having their manner of bath.”

It wasn’t until he explained over dinner that Kamet understood. Of course, Kamet almost choked on his mouthful of lamb, coughing. 

“Naked?” he managed. “In the snow?”

Costis nodded with a shudder. “Northerners,” he said with all the contempt that Kamet had once reserved for Attolians. “At least we have frigidariums in Attolia, indoors, like civilised people.”

That made Kamet laugh. “We better hope that they have something like that in Roa.”

Costis stared at him in dismay. He only had the most basic knowledge of Magyar and Roa itself and had no idea what the towns and cities would be like. “They have a library with ancient scrolls,” he said hopefully. “That usually means they’re at least a little civilised.”

Kamet nodded, nibbling on a piece of lamb. “Do you think there will be a library here?” he asked. “Or somewhere I could buy some ink? I need to replace the bottle that leaked on the ship.” There was a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “I need to get some now in case we end up living in a cave.”

Costis snorted. “If we end up living in a cave, I _will_ find some caggi to feed you.”

Kamet spread his hands, palms up, in the Attolian gesture of supplication and prayer and raised his eyes to the ceiling, which made Costis burst out laughing. That earned him one of Kamet’s rarer bashfully proud smiles. 

The rest of the evening, they rested on beds that didn’t sway beneath them, occasionally offering up ideas of what might lie ahead of them. Kamet’s voice was growing slurred with sleepiness and Costis subsided back into silence until he heard the familiar even sound of Kamet’s restful breathing. He smiled at the ceiling and closed his eyes.

They were both up before dawn, although Costis could tell that Kamet had been awake much longer. He always slept so lightly, even more so than Costis did himself. Costis wasn’t surprised, given his history. Where something as trivial as taking a bit of cake could end in a beating, sleeping late wasn’t an option.

The streets were still quiet as they wandered, taking in the sights of Zin. 

The town was one of the largest they’d passed through on the river. The market square was vast and sprawling, and the buildings along the bank spoke of regular trade with cranes and gantries for loading and unloading the riverboats. 

Kamet paused at a stand, haggling with the owner, and returned with two sweet coils of pastry scattered with honey and nuts. “I know they’re not the same,” he said apologetically, holding one out to Costis, a reminder of a conversation so many weeks ago. 

“They might even be better,” Costis said and bowed his head slightly in what he remembered as the Mede gesture of gratitude. Kamet flushed with delight and bit into his own pastry to hide how pleased he was. His eyes widened and he started wolfing down the pastry.

Costis eyed him. “That good?”

Kamet nodded without speaking, his cheeks round with food.

He wasn’t wrong. 

Costis went back and bought several more pastries, with the intention of them last through the day. They lasted less than an hour and by the time Costis finally found the library, both of them were groaning and overfull, still licking honey from their fingers. 

The building was stone-fronted at the bottom, then topped with wooden beams and pale panels of wood and a heavily-thatched roof to keep out the rains and the chill. It was bigger than Costis had expected, framed by small stalls selling steles and ink, and he saw Kamet’s expression brighten.

“If you want to stay here for a while,” he offered, “I have some things I want to look for in the market square.”

It was easier to read the other man’s face when Costis knew he was trying to hide his emotions. “If you don’t mind?” He almost sounded casual, and if Costis hadn’t known him as well as he did, he might have believed it.

“You can avoid the heat of the day and I won’t be leaning over your shoulder, asking what everything is,” Costis said with a smile. Kamet stifled a laugh and nodded. “I’ll come back for you in an hour or two.”

Kamet barely even waited for him to start walking away before he darted to one of the stalls and started poking through the bottles of ink. Costis watched over his shoulder, then chuckled and turned back in the direction of the market square.

He took his time meandering through the stalls of the market. There was nothing essential that he really needed, but did no harm to grab some salted meats and a few carefully-wrapped packs of some kind of local biscuit to pack up in his satchel to replace the crumbs of the pastries.

It had become habit since Mede to keep a bag of food prepared and at hand, so they wouldn’t go hungry even if the boat caught fire or the Emperor’s guard appeared or they faced any of the other unfortunate events that had happened to them in Mede. 

At least here, there were plenty of rivers and streams and no fear of dying of dehydration.

Once his bag was filled, supplemented with a pair of sheepskin mittens for Kamet to ward off the chill, Costis wandered to the nearest inn. It had a small courtyard and he settled by the wall with an ale, watching as people came and went.

He had long ago mastered the skill of watching people without seeming to watch them and he took his time with his drink. He spotted at least one Mede, but knew that they traded with the northern provinces so it was unlikely they were going to be a threat. The Emperor knew they would be protecting Kamet, so sending a clearly Mede assassin after him would be too obvious, which meant that anyone could be a threat.

Costis sipped his ale and kept both eyes open.

The clouds were starting to roll in across the sky when he finally rose and emerged from the shade into the fading chilly sunlight. Two hours were more than enough for Kamet to have a look at the library’s collection and get everything he needed.

To his surprise, Kamet was already sitting on a stone bench outside of the library when Costis arrived. Kamet was looking around anxiously at the people passing by. To anyone who didn’t know him, he probably just looked like a wide-eyed tourist, but Costis could see the way he was squinting, his whole body rigid with tension. 

Costis felt like an idiot. He’d said an hour or two. He was late. 

“Kay!” he called. It was the name they had settled on as Kamet’s alias for their journey and he saw Kamet startle, turning towards him. He waved an arm, knowing that even a dozen feet away, Kamet might not be able to distinguish him from the people around him.

The tension in Kamet’s body vanished in a blink and he smiled, rising and raising his own hand in greeting. “There you are.”

Costis nodded, smiling. “I hope you weren’t waiting too long,” he said, throwing a companionable arm around Kamet’s shoulders and steering him back in the direction of the inn.

“Not long,” Kamet demurred at once and Costis knew it was a lie. He could feel it in the chill clinging to Kamet’s clothing. He glanced at the sky. The gloves could wait. There was rain coming and soon.

“And you got everything you wanted?”

Kamet nodded with a quick smile. “And you?”

Costis patted his satchel with his free hand. “We won’t starve.”

That earned a chuckle. “No more caggi?”

“I know. You must be desolate.”

“Mm.” Kamet looked up at him, grave-faced. “Heart-broken.”

They both managed to hold the straight faces for a few paces, then sniggered.

It took them longer to get back to the inn than Costis hoped. The streets were busier, people trying frantically to get their business done before the rains came. He wasn’t surprised when Kamet pressed close to his side, two fingers hooking into Costis’s belt for fear of being swept away by the throng. 

The first drops of rain were already starting to fall when they turned onto the street where their inn was, both of them dashing along the cobbles towards the door and throwing themselves in as the skies opened.

They stood there, panting, watching the rain fall as thick and as cold as a waterfall, turning the world into hazy gray. 

“Good timing,” Costis said, looking down.

Kamet nodded. “I would not have liked to swim back.”

Costis laughed, nodding towards the stairs. “Come on. My bag is feeling heavy.”

The room was warm when they entered, even with the shutters open and the rain beating against the windows. Costis carried his bag over to his bed and wasn’t surprised when Kamet headed straight to the table under the window. He could hear the clink of small bottles being set on the tabletop and smiled. One bottle of ink had clearly turned into more.

“Sounds like you had a successful day,” he said, opening out his own bag and searching out the mittens. Kamet didn’t say anything and Costis frowned, turning. “Something wrong?”

Kamet was standing at the table still. He had a narrow tube in his hands, one used for carrying scrolls, and he was staring down at it. 

“A new book for your collection?” Costis asked, pleased. It was rare for the man to treat himself to little indulgences and his love of books was well known. Kamet looked over at him, startled, like a hare in hunter’s path. He looked too nervous and Costis forgot all about the mittens. “What is it?”

Kamet turned and held out both hands, palms up, the tube lying across them. “For you,” he blurted out, his face flushed.

Costis blinked at him foolishly, then at the tube. He hesitated, then picked it up. “For me?”

Kamet nodded, self-consciously wrapping his hands around his wrists. The bracelet turned again, Costis noticed, and he had a horrible suspicion that he understood what the tube was about. 

“You didn’t need-” He cut himself off at the look on Kamet’s face and smiled. “Thank you, Kamet.” He drew the lid off the tube and withdrew the scroll that was inside it. It was a new piece of parchment, no cracks or creases or tears visible. The ink was so fresh that it was as black as midnight. Costis stared at it, then at Kamet. “What is this?”

Kamet’s knuckles were white. “Read it.”

Costis obeyed, skimming down the body of the text, and his heart gave a stunned jump. It was another Immakuk and Ennikar tale, but this one was one he had never heard: the forging of the friendship of wise Immakuk and strong Ennikar. It was carefully written in Attolian in Kamet’s neat hand. 

That was why Kamet wanted to find a library. That’s why he wanted ink. To Kamet, books were precious. Words and writing were what he valued and he had taken his time, his skill and his money to make such a precious gift.

Costis laid the scroll down reverently on his bed behind him, then stepped across the small distance between them and pulled Kamet into a hug. “Thank you,” he managed to say, his voice hoarse.

Kamet’s arms wrapped around his waist, fingers curling at his back, and he felt more than heard the relieved, shaking laugh. “You’re welcome.”


	5. Chapter 5

When I fled Ianna-Ir, I never imagined I would successfully cross snow-capped mountains on foot. The concept was so far from everything I knew that it seemed as likely as me finding a friend in the enemy King of a rival country. 

If anyone had told me I would not only cross one mountain range but two within the space of a year, I think I would have laughed at them and told them to stop their drinking.

This time, at least, we were not fleeing for our lives with a horde of Namreen close behind us. We had supplies. We had a shaggy little mountain pony to carry them. We had clothes that covered us from head to toe against the bitter winds.

I had a pair of mittens.

Costis had never admitted to buying them for me, but when I was pulling out my warmest clothes from my pack, they had fallen out of my thickly-quilted coat. I knew I hadn’t put them there. I had packed too carefully to overlook them. I held them up to him, confused, not certain what they were, let alone what they were for.

“Mittens,” he explained. “For your hands. Like gloves.”

He must have bought them in Zin, the last place we passed through with a decent market. I could remember the nights in the Taymets and how cold it had been there and wondered if that was why. I can still remember the way he would take my hands in his and rub warmth back into them when we stopped for the night, while we waited for the fire to grow. 

Now, my hands were warm, but I could barely open or carry anything as we ascended the mountains. The mittens were little more than a pocket of leather with a smaller pocket for a thumb, lined with sheepskin that wrapped up around my wrist. Costis laughed himself sick watching me trying to unstop my waterskin for the first time with warm but useless hands.

“You could take them off,” he pointed out as we wound our way up the marked path. It was rough and uneven, but clearly well-travelled with small wooden plaques with symbols carved into them, indicating where there was water or shelter nearby.

I made a face at him. “If I take one off, then I’ll have to take the other off to put it back on.”

He shook his head, still laughing.

I was grateful for those mittens the higher we went. 

The Taymets had been covered in show in places, but they were much further south than this range. There were valleys for us to cross and the snow came up to our knees, but there was no other way to go if we were to lose any potential enemies.

The king had been thorough in his planning. My papers didn’t specify where I came from originally, only that I was a wandering scribe. All the references came from various noble households across the little peninsula and I had no doubt that each of those households had been paid well from the Royal coffers to confirm every word of my false history.

According to the last place of my employment, I was coming from Eddis and was expected to arrive in Magyar through the eastern reaches of the Hephestial mountains. 

Eugenides had warned me before I left that it would be a hard journey. He knew the mountains well and he had slipped into my room two nights before I left to apologise for the hardship I was about to endure. We had almost come to words then, the king and I, when I assured him I would be fine and he insisted he never meant to put me in such a precarious position again, even if it was part of his master plan.

The next morning, when I was making my last preparations, a box arrived: his apology in the shape of a beautifully-made pair of boots. It was difficult to have words with a pair of boots. They looked more aesthetically pleasing than useful but the moment I put them on, I realised that the king was doing his utmost to make my journey as easy as possible.

The mountains were meant to be the most difficult part. Once we reached one of the trade roads from Eddis on the far side of this particular mountain range, we would follow it all the way to the trading hub where we would meet our contact who would arrange passage for us to the Leonyla pass and then on to Roa.

We were lucky for much of the journey. There were chilly winds, but the skies stayed clear for days at a time and the scatter of tiny villages and homesteads provided us with shelter most nights. The only trouble with that was that the sun became dazzling on the ice and snow and we were blinking tears from our eyes as we walked.

The snow storm, when it came, was almost a relief. Costis saw it coming in the shape of the clouds or the smell of the air or something I couldn’t spot and herded the pony and I into the first available cave we came to. I argued that we still had hours of daylight, but he insisted, even going so far as to push some boulders to narrow the mouth of the cave.

The wind rose within the hour and only a short while later, the snow began to fall. It wasn’t the small hard fragments of ice we had encountered on the river. This was something else, the flakes thick and white, some as long as my smallest finger. I crouched at the opening of the cave, mesmerised, watching it whirl in coils in the air.

It didn’t take long for me to feel the cold cutting in through my clothing, despite the layers, and I retreated into the cave. Costis had taken some of our own firewood down and had a small fire burning. I sent up a quiet prayer of gratitude to the Gods, then sat down beside him, pulling off one mitten then the other to extend my hands to the flame.

“We’ll need to ration the wood,” he murmured a few minutes later. “We don’t know how long the storm will last.”

My heart felt like a rock in my chest. I hadn’t even thought of it, while I sat and admired the beauty of the natural world. I’d forgotten that if it lasted, then we wouldn’t.

The realisation must have shown on my face because Costis wrapped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me against his side. 

“Don’t worry,” he said. “We have plenty of blankets and plenty of layers to stay warm in here. It would be more of a worry if we were in the open, but we’re sheltered and we’re dry, so we’re already steps ahead.”

“And mittens,” I said foolishly.

He gave me a warm squeeze. “And mittens.”

We sat like that in silence for some time and finally, I asked the question that had been weighing on my tongue since the mittens had fallen out of my pack.

“Why did you give them to me?”

Costis shrugged. He was carefully prodding pieces of wood back into the fire with a charred stick. “Your hands were always cold. I thought they might help.”

So simple an explanation.

“They do. The mittens.” I looked down at them in my lap. “It- thank you. It was kind of you.”

Costis made a non-committal sound as if I were giving him too much credit. “You were cold. It’s what anyone would do.”

“Anyone didn’t,” I pointed out quietly. “You did.”

He looked at me and one side of his mouth turned up. “It was selfish too. I don’t like to see you suffering.”

I felt the colour burn in my cheeks and I looked down. Out of habit, or maybe out of comfort, my fingers strayed to the bracelet that was a solid and tangible reminder of the regard and respect that Costis showed me. It was very simple to call a freeman free. It was much more difficult to understand what it really meant and all the little ways your world would change when the chains were lifted from your neck.

Costis made it so much easier.

“I have nothing I can give you,” I said.

I felt him sigh fondly against my brow. “You don’t _need_ to give me anything, Kamet. It’s not a matter of balancing out one gift with another. If I give you a gift, it’s because I want to, not because I expect you to repay me in kind.”

Even now, I’m not sure if I was more perplexed by this because he wanted to give _me_ a gift or because in my master’s household I had learned very quickly that gifts were only gifts in name. In reality, they were bribes, gestures of apology, tokens for favours, pleas for intercession and mercy. A gift was never given without a reason.

Costis was watching me puzzling over his words, trying to come to terms with this very Attolian attitude. Or perhaps it was a purely Costis attitude. I couldn’t judge based on his king, because Eugenides had long since stopped playing by any common rules. Anyway, he was Eddisian and their manners were even more foreign than Attolian manners.

“Is that why you gave me the scroll?” he finally asked. “After the bracelet?”

I hesitated, half-shrugging. “It-” I pushed my sleeve back to look at it, then back at him. “It was never… permitted for me to wear anything so beautiful, let alone have it.” I tried to smile but my lips trembled. “And you gave it to me as if you never questioned my right to have it.” I knew my eyes were bright and wet and I blinked hard. “I wanted to thank you for that.”

He lifted his hand from my shoulder to cup the back of my head and leaned down to knock his brow against mine. “And you gave me Immakuk and Ennikar in return.”

I nodded, our skin brushing against one another’s. He was so close there and even if the fire burned out, I no longer feared the cold. “Us,” I whispered, echoing his word on that first day of our journey.

Costis’s thumb brushed the side of my neck lightly and I shivered, but not from the cold.

“Offered his hand to the one who had challenged,” he recited quietly, my words taken from the scroll I had given him. “Took Ennikar’s hand in his, welcomed Ennikar to his halls.” I closed my eyes. His voice was barely audible over the howling wind and the crack of the flames. “Great was their love and greatly did it sustain them in their journeys together.”

I had no words left.

I sought one of the many thousands of signs and gestures I knew to express the emotion welling in me at his words, at my words on his lips, at the meaning he had filled them with, but there were no signs or gestures that would do.

I lifted my hand to touch his face and looked up, his pale eyes gold by the dull firelight.

With care - with caution - I lifted my face to his and when I touched his lips with mine, I knew I was the one who had turned our world again.


	6. Chapter 6

Kamet was asleep and Costis was confused.

Pleased, true, but Gods above and below, of all the times for Kamet to choose to make his feelings known, in the middle of a snowstorm in the middle of the mountains, when they might not survive…

Cotis glanced down at the other man, curled in tight by his side in the snug nest of blankets. The faint glow of the embers of the fire made his already red-brown skin gleam like polished copper.

He wanted to believe that Kamet wasn’t acting purely out of the belief they wouldn’t see the other side of the mountains. There had been such intensity in his expression when he had looked up at Costis before kissing him. That couldn’t be feigned. It couldn’t just be a response to the fear of his possible death.

Kamet didn’t look afraid.

Costis had seen Kamet in every manner of mood. He’d held him when he was terrified and panicking. He’d watched him when he tried to hide his dread. He’d seen him veer from wild hysteria to numb complacency, his hands shaking and his face ashen.

He wasn’t afraid now.

Costis shifted to draw the blankets up more closely and wasn’t surprised when Kamet’s eyes flickered open, clouded with sleep.

“Is it done?” he murmured, squinting up at Costis.

Costis could still hear the wind wailing and shook his head. “Not yet. Go back to sleep.”

A mittened hand tugged at his tunic, urging him to lie down too. “You as well.”

One of them really needed to keep their eyes open, but Costis was tired and warm and there was a gentle hand guiding him. He slid down a little way from his half-seated position against the wall, moving onto his side, until there were blankets all around him and Kamet snug against his front.

“You’re getting very demanding,” he grumbled fondly against Kamet’s hat-covered ear.

Kamet - to his amusement - laughed. “And you’re being obedient.”

Costis tugged the blankets all the way up to Kamet’s chin, until all that was visible of him was half of his face and even that was obscured by the furred edge of his hat. “Only in the mountains where no one can see.” 

Beneath the blankets, he hesitated then wrapped an arm around Kamet’s waist. Kamet froze as if surprised, then one of those mittened hands settled on Costis’s forearm. There was hardly a finger’s width of space between them from top to bottom.

Little by little, Costis noticed their breathing was coming at the same time, matched even breaths in the quiet dark.

“Costis,” Kamet’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“Hm?”

“I’m glad you came with me.”

Costis couldn’t fight the smile. “I make a good blanket,” he murmured with a yawn. 

“Mm.” Kamet’s voice was drowsy. “Warm.”

“Go to sleep.”

“Mm.”

The storm had eased by the time they woke, enough that a thin, pale light was breaking through the mouth of the cave. Costis wasn’t sure which of them woke first. It was probably pretty close, given how easily they both stirred, but Costis was the first to sit up out of the blankets and curse at the chill in the air.

“The fire went out,” Kamet said helpfully, sitting up with the blankets still pulled around him like a cloak. His hat had been dislodged during the night and he shoved it back in place, strands of dark hair peeping out from beneath it.

“I think we can risk relighting it.” Costis stamped his way across the cave, shaking some of the stiffness from his limbs. He peered out into the daylight. It was early, he guessed from the angles of some of the shadows, but the clouds were smeared white across the sky and snow was still falling in soft, heavy flakes. “It looks like it’s easing a little.”

“Enough to move on?”

Costis shook his head as he turned back and headed towards the pony. She shifted irritably, but was as warm as they were, layered in her own blanket. “Give it a few hours before we risk anything. I think we may have to stay here another night to be safe.”

Kamet nodded, tugging off one mitten with his teeth so he could rub at his eyes. “We didn’t freeze,” he said. “That’s good.”

Costis smiled, squatting down to rebuild the base of the fire. “I told you I’m a good blanket.”

With visible reluctance, Kamet emerged from his woollen and furred cocoon. “You were,” he agreed as he made his way over and sat down cross-legged an arm’s length from Costis. He had both mittens off now and cradled one hand with the other. It let him brush his finger along the back of his bracelet. “Costis, last night-”

“It’s all right,” Costis interrupted. “You don’t need to worry about it.”

Kamet blinked as if Costis had doused him with snowmelt. “What?”

His expression made Costis hesitate, wondering if he had misread everything. “What?”

Kamet stared at him for almost too long, then got up, walked across the small distance between them, then leaned down and took Costis’s face between his hands and very deliberately kissed him on the lips again. “I’m not worried about it,” he said, then returned to the exact spot he had been sitting and sat back down.

Costis knew he could look like an idiot sometimes, especially when he was slack-jawed and staring. He could see the colour flooding up Kamet’s face and the way Kamet was avoiding his gaze, but also the flicker of a smile around his lips. The smile was all Costis needed.

He crawled across that narrow gap between them.

“Kamet,” he said.

Kamet looked up at him, then caught his breath against Costis’s lips when Costis kissed him as he’d wanted to kiss him for every week and month of their journey together. Kamet’s fingers were in his hair and Costis had an arm around his waist, pulling him closer. 

It wasn’t like he’d imagined it.

The kisses were clumsy and urgent and Kamet was breathing too hard and pulling on Costis’s hair and Costis could taste blood where one of them had nicked the other with their teeth. He wasn’t sure which.

He pulled back, taking a deep breath. 

Kamet had blood on his bottom lip. His eyes were wide and darker than they had been in the cool light. His tongue darted out, sweeping away the blood, and he dropped his hands to curl against the thick fabric of his trousers. 

“Gods preserve us,” Costis groaned, rubbing his head. 

“I’m sorry,” Kamet said, his whole body tensing. Habit, Costis knew.

“Don’t be,” he replied. “It’s not that I don’t want- I- it-” He laughed ruefully, shaking his head. “Of all the places for you to let me know, it’s in the coldest, hardest bleakest place we have ever been.” He smiled crookedly. “It should have been somewhere warm and safe and comfortable. Not somewhere that could kill us.”

Kamet stared at him, then relaxed, laughing. “Then it wouldn’t be us.”

Costis snorted. “Very true. I don’t know what a normal, quiet day is like for you.”

“So,” Kamet agreed. He almost looked serious, if not for the twitch at the corner of his mouth. “I think you will need to find out.”

Costis couldn’t help leaning closer and knocking his brow against Kamet’s. “I look forward to it.”

Kamet tilted his head to kiss Costis again, but lighter this time. When he drew back, he widened his eyes reproachfully. “I’m cold.”

Costis rolled his eyes. “Demanding,” he repeated his claim of the previous night. Still, he reached for his matches and set to lighting the fire again. From the corner of his eye, he saw Kamet brushing a fingertip along his still-smiling lips. 

Some part of Costis wondered if things would become awkward.

He had never been one for relationships. A few of his brothers at arms had fallen in with each other, even though it was technically against the regulations, and some had wives and lovers. Costis had never really had anyone. 

In fact, embarrassingly enough, there had been no one serious since the girl who had robbed him blind in his first six months in the guard. A fumble here and there, but there had never been any connection that he wanted to prolong. At least no one accessible.

And now, there was Kamet.

Costis wasn’t sure when his concern and admiration for the man had turned into something more. It was certainly on their journey, but it was impossible to say when. He’d gone expecting a cowed and timid slave who would be desperate for freedom. 

Instead, he found a man who was as strong-willed and bull-headed as could be, who walked miles without complaint even when his muscles were twitching with fatigue and his feet were raw. He looked like he could be blown over by a breath of wind, but he had faced every challenge with more courage than many of Attolia’s guard. If that wasn’t enough, Kamet was clever, quick-thinking, and once he pushed through the shadow of punishment, he wasn’t afraid to speak his mind.

That, Costis thought, was an easy man to admire and respect. 

By the time he had the fire going, Kamet had emerged from his cocoon and gone over to the entrance of the cave. It was still snowing and it seemed to fascinate him.

“You never saw snow in the capital?” Costis asked over his shoulder.

Kamet shook his head. “I always imaged it was like rain. Not like this.” He extended one bare hand out to catch a handful of thick flakes. He stared at them, then sighed when they melted into his skin. “No one said it was so beautiful.”

“Most of the people who see it up close learn not to appreciate it,” Costis said. He watched Kamet wipe his wet hand on his quilted coat. “There are people who would consider the sand of the deserts in the Mede empire beautiful.”

Kamet sniffed as he returned to the fire. “They have never had to wash it from every orifice, then.”

That made Costis chuckle. “At least you won’t have that trouble with snow.” He tilted the pot over the fire, stirring the warm pottage of seeds and vegetables. He added a few shreds of dried meat as well, then set it back over the flames. “It’ll be ready soon.”

Kamet was untangling the loose ties of his mittens as he looked around the cave. Costis could have walked from one end to the other in eight long strides. It was almost the same width, but sloped lower at the back. Kamet frowned. “The cave isn’t big. Where can I go without soiling where we sleep?”

Costis couldn’t help himself. He turned and looked towards the cave opening, then raised his eyebrows at Kamet. “You could turn the snow yellow.”

Kamet’s expression twisted between mirth and horror. “No!”

Once Costis started laughing, he couldn’t stop. He waved a hand towards the back of the cave, behind their grumpy pony. “She’s already made sure this place won’t be inhabitable in a few hours. I don’t think she’ll mind if you add to it.”

Kamet got up with all the dignity of a king - a proper one, not like Eugenides on a typical day - and walked around behind Costis. In passing, he took one mitten and batted Costis firmly across the back of the head with it.

Costis ducked, grinning, as he stirred the stew. “Don’t let the pony see,” he called after Kamet. “She might think you’re bringing her a carrot.”

Kamet’s choked laughter echoed back off the walls of the cave and made Costis’s grin spread even wider.


	7. Chapter 7

It took another day for the storm to clear and three more days for us to descend far enough to reach the bottom of the snowline. I had thought the Taymets were bad, but I had never been so relieved to set foot on bare stone as I was that day.

Costis teased me for bounding across the bare ground, but I didn't care. For the first time in days, I could walk easily instead of forcing every step as we waded through the drifts, searching for solid footing beneath the treacherous sheets of white.

"We still have a long way to go," he cautioned. "Don't exhaust yourself."

I took a few more defiant skipping steps, but slowed back to a walk, because even if I liked to show him I didn't need orders, he was right. We had survived the worst of the snow, but even from that vantage point, I could see the path we were to follow, twisting snake-like through the mountains.

"Will the pony be able to manage?" I asked doubtfully, looking at the sturdy little animal. "It looks steep in places."

"Mountain pony," was all Costis said, as he took her by the reins and set us on our way.

To my relief, we reached a small mountain village before nightfall. There were only a handful of houses, but one of them had a lantern in the window, marking it as somewhere that travellers could stay. The man who opened the door spoke coarse Eddisian and indicated we could use the adjoining building.

It was a solid little structure with only one door and shuttered windows. It looked like the walls were entirely made of felled trees. Costis lowered his pack and looked around approvingly. There was a pen for the pony, a hearth with a stack of firewood, and even a makeshift bed beside one wall.

Compared to the bitterly cold caves that had been our shelter for close to a week, it was like a palace to me. 

Costis tossed his flints to me. “Get the fire started and I’ll deal with her.”

Smacking two rocks together seemed like a very primitive way to start a blaze. When our journey had started, there were matches, but the prolonged days in the caves had spent them all. Last night, Costis had produced the flints for the first time.

He made it look so simple, but I had been spoiled with matches and tinderboxes. It should have been easy, and yet, by the time he returned to my side, I was swearing under my breath at the fire that wouldn’t take and the impressive graze across three of my knuckles.

The floor creaked beside me and I looked up as Costis sat down cross-legged by my side. 

"I can show you," he offered. "If you like."

I nodded gratefully. "I think it would be useful."

It never fails to amaze me how readily he offers his knowledge and even more, how little it distresses me. Ignorance was always a weakness in my previous life. A man survived by knowing as much as he could and acting accordingly. To ask was to show ignorance and to show ignorance was to reveal a weakness.

I held out the flints to him, but he shook his head.

“It’s easier if I teach you how to do it yourself.” 

He arranged the flints in my hands and I could see at once the basic mistakes I had made: the wrong angle, the wrong side. He shaped his hands around mine, making sure his larger fingers didn’t obscure mine, so I could see what he was doing. I could feel every callus.

“You need to strike these two sides against each other, towards the kindling.” He moved my hands and tapped the two sides together. “It’s less banging them together and more glancing them off each other to create enough friction to cause the spark.”

I nodded as he withdrew his hands and tried to follow his instruction. It took a few attempts and a couple more grazed knuckles, but the flints sparked and he leaned down to gently blow to fan the sparks into a flame.

We sat there, watching as the fire grew to a warm, dancing glow, casting shadows all around it. Costis fed it with a few larger pieces of wood once it was well alight and it didn't take long before I was tugging the stays of my coat undone, warmer than I had felt in days.

Costis filled the cooking pot, shredding some more of the dried meat in with several handfuls of grain. I could see by his frown that he was concerned. We had been well-supplied and the provisions should have lasted several days longer than this stage of the journey, but the storm and the days that followed had slowed us down. 

“Do you think they would sell us some food?” I asked, nodding in the direction of the houses.

Costis grimaced. “I doubt they’d have enough to spare. These kind of places live on the very limit. We can’t expect anything from them beyond their hospitality.” He stirred the pot, adding a little more water to it. “We should be in better terrain in a couple of days. There may be goats or some kind of animals we can hunt.”

It was something to hope for.

We sat in silence while the stew simmered, then Costis scooped some up in each of our bowls. It was less than usual, but if we were running low on provisions, the rest would serve for a breakfast in the morning before we set on our way.

I took my time, savouring each small spoonful. Costis was finished well before I was and I could feel his eyes on me when I finally set down my bowl and licked the spoon clean.

I tilted my head, looking at him. “What is it?”

Costis shook his head with a crooked smile. “I’m wondering what you’ll be like when you’re settled somewhere you can call home without all of…” He gestured vaguely around the small hut that was our current refuge. “No dangerous flights across mountains, no deserts, no soldiers.”

I stared blankly at him. I hadn’t even thought of it. 

When I thought of Roa, my mind immediately went to the library that was to be my place of work and the coastline that was for Costis. There would be somewhere to live, of course, but I had always been provided with somewhere to live. Walls. A roof. Sometimes, a bed. Once, I even had a desk and a curtain for privacy, in my small alcove off my m- off Nahusuresh’s chamber.

Home was… something else.

Home brought the echo of my mother’s voice, the herbs and spices drying in the eaves, the wind rustling the trees outside at night, the dust between my toes when the rains were late. Home was gone. The walls were torn down. The people who lived there… 

I flinched when a hand touched my shoulder.

“Kamet?”

I looked away from Costis, staring down at my empty bowl. “I don’t know.”

Costis didn’t say anything, but he moved a little closer and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. It was safe and it was welcoming, no threat or force, and I leaned into his side, letting my gaze drift to the fire. 

“I think,” he said eventually, “you will need a good cook pot.”

I almost managed to smile. “A cook pot?”

“Mm.” He rubbed his cheek against my hair. “You mentioned them a lot in your account.”

I sat back to look at him, part-startled, part-mortified. “You’ve been reading it?” Oh Gods have mercy. My early perceptions of him were not kind and even if he must have guessed my opinion then, seeing it written down would only remind him what a fool I was.

“Mm.” He smiled at me. “And I saw you missed a lot of the details.”

I shook my head, frowning. I had put in anything I thought was pertinent. “I made sure to include all the important information.”

“But nothing about your feet blistered to bleeding,” he pointed out. “Or how badly your head was hurt and that you still kept going.”

I shook my head. “That wasn’t important.”

He looked at me with patient disbelief, then lifted his hand from my shoulder to cup the back of my head and tilted his head down to mine. His brow brushed against mine. “I,” he murmured, “would consider it important.”

I wanted to tell him he was sentimental and foolish and that no one else would want to know or care. I should have said any of those things, but instead, I leaned closer to him and let my mouth meet his again. I could feel his smile against my lips and I was careful this time. No more blood. Not for us.

I don’t know how, but we went from sitting by the flames to stretched out on the floor. His arm was under my head and his mouth was moving on mine. I wasn’t untouched. I had taken a lover, once or twice, and had learned quickly that it was not permitted, but now, I was a free man and I could do as I chose. I reached up to touch his face, his neck, his shoulder. Maybe it was the Attolian way to dart with his tongue against mine and steal my breath away.

I was breathing hard, my head light, when he drew back. 

“We should rest,” he murmured.

I could feel the familiar ache in my loins and he was so warm and broad leaning over me. It would have been so easy to draw him back down, but he was right and this was no place for exploring the desires that I’d stifled for so many years.

I pushed against his chest and he sat up at once. 

“You should take the bed,” he said as I sat up and adjusted my clothing.

“Me?”

One side of his mouth turned up. “I had the bed in Zaboar. You didn’t. It’s only fair.”

I snorted, but when he offered me a hand to pull me up to my feet, I took it. “It was hardly a bed.”

“It wasn’t the floor.”

“True.” I glanced over at it. We could both fit on it and if I asked him, I knew he wouldn’t say no, but this wasn’t the time or the place. There was too much to think about, not least what I was doing and where I was going and who I might become when I got there.

There was a single blanket on the bed, but Costis fetched the others from the pony’s pack and split them between us. When I finally lay down on the coarse mattress, coat and hat and blanket all around me, I watched Costis stretching himself out on the floor near the fire.

“That was your plan all along,” I murmured.

“Hm?” He tilted his head to look back at me.

“Keeping the fire all for yourself.”

“Mm-hm.” He yawned hugely, then sprawled out on his belly in his blankets. “Enjoy your cold bed, Kamet.”

I still had my mittens so I threw one at his head.


	8. Chapter 8

The worst passes of the mountains were behind them at last. 

Costis was more relieved than he could say. The weather and the landscape had conspired against them. Their food had almost run out and it was only luck that brought them to a small town when a trader was passing through in the lower valleys.

He hoped Kamet hadn’t noticed, but it was hard to hide the fact that their portions of food had become smaller by the day and they spent more of the night in chilly darkness, huddling for warmth, instead of lighting a fire.

Still, it was done with now.

They’d finally begun their descent into one of the valleys. There were bushes and trees along the edges of the narrow track. A river wound its way in frothing white in the depths of the canyon and there was no Gods damned snow ahead. 

Kamet was walking a few steps behind, clearly fascinated. Once or twice, he bent to snatch up fallen twigs and leaves, turning them over, running his fingers along them, even sniffing them when he thought Costis wasn’t looking. The mountains of the Mede empire were bare compared to the timber-rich mountains of Eddis. 

Costis had to admit they were impressive. 

Despite the turning of the season, many of the trees were still green and the scent of sap filled the air. He’d only ever seen the mountains from a distance before, from his family’s farm, when they were a dark, greenish haze on the horizon. Up close, the trees seemed like they could reach the clouds, the wind whispering in the branches.

They also seemed to stretch on much further than he’d expected. He had the maps, the plans, the paths, which made it all look so simple, but now that they were in the middle of the mountains, he could see why Eddis had never been successfully invaded. These were not mountains to be easily conquered by a large force.

The path widened and narrowed for miles. It was an impossible path to stop and rest on, especially with the pony clattering along with them. They ate and drank as they trudged on, and by late in the afternoon, Costis’s feet were aching. He could tell that Kamet was flagging. 

“Not far now,” he called back over his shoulder, praying that the detailed map Eugenides had provided was accurate. There was meant to be a small gully, a clearing where one of the tributaries of the river had once flowed a thousand years before. It would be a good place to shelter for the night.

When they reached it, Kamet was trailing far behind. Costis knew he would catch up, but made sure to keep an eye on the opening between the trail and the small clearing for fear that Kamet wouldn’t notice it and would walk on.

By the time Kamet stumbled in, Costis had spread out his bedroll for him and Kamet collapsed to his knees then fell down, face first, with a groan of relief. His feet stuck off the end of the roll, lost in the long grass and Costis watched him with fond amusement.

“Tired?”

Kamet didn’t even lift his head, but he raised one hand off the ground and tilted it from side to side. 

“That good?”

There was a muffled grunt from the bedding.

Costis unfurled the map, spreading it in his lap. “This should be the hardest day of the descent,” he said. “We’re coming down onto the proper trading paths. If we keep a good pace tomorrow, we should reach the main trails.”

Kamet tilted his head to squint blearily with one eye. “Mm?”

“Two days,” Costis confirmed, smiling. “Maybe three and we’ll find our contact for the journey on through the pass.”

Kamet rolled onto his back and splayed out his arms. “After this, I am never walking anywhere again,” he vowed. “Gods have mercy, I won’t have any feet left if we keep on doing this.”

Costis laughed. “I think the boots helped.”

Kamet lifted one leg to study the boot on his foot. They were as ornately-decorated as anything the King of Attolia would wear, but Costis had no doubt they were also the best boots a man could buy anywhere in the little peninsula. 

“Not just shiny,” Kamet agreed. He sat and reached down to tug his boots off, then spread his toes in the long, cool grass. “Still, I look forward to the day when I don’t need them.”

Costis nodded. 

Even his uniform back in the guard wasn’t as layered as his clothing now: quilted jackets, woollen shirts, layered pants, thick, sturdy boots, a heavy woollen cloak. It was all necessary, but even though it was made of cloth, it weighed him down even more than his armour. It was a relief to remove even a part of it.

“You should rest,” he said, watching Kamet loosen the stays of his coat.

“Mm.” Kamet lay back down and in a moment, he was asleep.

Costis couldn’t fault him for that. It had been a long and arduous journey. While Kamet slept, Costis took the time to gather fresh firewood to supplement their diminished supplies. It was an easy job in the narrow valley, where dead trees had shed their branches in storms. 

He was back in their camp and watching the twilight clouds when Kamet finally stirred, rubbing at his eyes with a fist.

“There’s food,” Costis said without turning his head. He waved towards the bowl he’d left on Kamet’s side of the campfire. It was a generous portion of thick, grainy stew, much more filling than their feeble meals of the past few days.

Kamet grabbed it at once, wolfing it down.

Costis could still remember how delicate Kamet had been when they first met, especially with his meals. He would arrange his food then eat it carefully, in small bites, as if he could draw out the meal, no matter how large or small. There was an obvious reason for that, which Costis hated to dwell on. Not so much anymore, though. Now, Kamet ate eagerly when he was hungry and had no shame about being indelicate.

“Thank you,” Kamet said finally, as he swiped a finger around the inside of the bowl then licked it clean.

Costis smiled at the sky. “Feeling better now?”

“Mm.” Kamet was quiet for a moment. “You? It looks like you’ve been busy.”

Costis laughed, pushing himself up on one elbow to look over at the fire at him. “I’m used to it, remember.”

Kamet nodded, but he was frowning at his hands, which were pressing down on his crossed ankles. “You are, aren’t you?”

Costis recognised that expression and sat up. “What’s wrong?”

Kamet, still frowning, shook his head. He raised his eyes to Costis. “Your life. Your rank. Everything you’d made of yourself. Your family. You don’t have that anymore.”

“Because I’m here?”

Kamet nodded, his mouth twisting in an unhappy grimace. “You had a good reputation in the guard. The King likes you. You have friends there. Your family is there. Now, you’re in the mountains again, making sure I don’t fall down a crevice or starve, and when we get to Roa, you won’t have a rank or a role or anything and you had…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I should have told you to stay behind.”

Costis raised his eyebrows. “Where did this come from?”

Kamet shook his head again. He looked as mournful as a kicked dog. “I watched,” he said finally. “You collected the firewood, made the camp, made the food. I’ve turned you into a caretaker instead of a soldier.”

“If you think I’m anything but what I am, you’re very wrong,” Costis said with fond amusement. “If I was among my brothers, I’d have duties like this too.” He tossed another shard of wood into the fire. “Anyway, you didn’t set me on this path. My king pointed it out to me and I chose to follow it. I have my tasks just as you do.”

Kamet blinked owlishly at him. “You do?”

“Indeed.” Costis wagged another stick in his direction. “You think my - our - king would really send you to be his watchdog with a hundred new texts in front of you?” He saw the colour flood Kamet’s face and winced at how harshly his words could be taken. “You will be a scribe in the temple, which is safer for you and useful for him, but you can’t guarantee your eyes will always be on the sea.”

Kamet’s eyes widened in understanding. “But yours will?”

Costis smiled. “I’m not only here to protect you,” he said. “I’m here to be the king’s eyes where you can’t be.”

“People we can trust outside our borders…” Kamet murmured and Costis knew where he had heard those words. 

“It does leave you with a dilemma, doesn’t it?” Costis said. Kamet cocked his head inquiringly. “Whether we stay loyal to him or we give him a good, hard shake for playing with our lives like pieces on a board.”

To his relief, Kamet started laughing, ducking his head. “I’m glad I’m not the only one to think so,” he admitted. “He has a way, doesn’t he?”

They shared a look, knowing they were of the handful that Eugenides had taken into his trust completely, but who had also had their lives turned upside down for the fact. Sometimes, Costis still rubbed his knuckles, wondering how different his life would have been if the king hadn’t chosen him as a playing piece so many months ago.

“Never blame yourself for me being here,” Costis said. “You aren’t an obligation, Kamet.”

“No?”

Costis smiled and shook his head. “If I didn’t want to be here with you, I wouldn’t be.”

The red tinge was back in Kamet’s cheeks and his smile was shyer. “So?”

“What is Ennikar without Immakuk?”

Kamet’s eyes darted back up to him. “You’re Ennikar?”

Costis grinned at him. “The strong? Unless you think I’m the wise?”

Kamet snorted, then put his hand to his nose as if he could belatedly stifle the sound. 

“So Ennikar, then?” Costis said, fighting to keep his grin from widening.

Kamet waved one hand from side to side and wrinkled his nose. “You have been made foolish by a maid in your time,” he agreed and Costis burst out laughing. Kamet looked pleased with himself for that response. 

“So, so, so,” Costis said, smiling. “There speaks wise Immakuk.”

Kamet smiled bright as sunlight.


	9. Chapter 9

Roa was not what I expected.

Nahuseresh had cared little for a place he considered inconsequential. It had no standing army and with no real tactical significance, the Empire had not deemed it worth taking. It was a spiritual place, they said with disdain. Monks and prayers and nothing of value.

Our first glimpse of it was when we emerged from the valley that led from the Leonyla pass. At first there were only a few houses, then gradually the road widened and a town became visible, sloping downwards on a curving hillside that led down towards the port and the sea.

It gleamed.

I stopped in my tracks, staring.

The houses were small and simple, it was true, but in the brilliant afternoon sunlight, with their walls painted white and their roofs tiled in terracotta, they looked like jewels scattered across the green slopes. High above them, the temple shone on the cliff top overlooking the city.

Beside me, Costis whistled through his teeth, as impressed as I.

"I expected mud huts," I admitted sheepishly, as we wound our way through the neatly-cobbled streets. "Something... less than this."

Costis knocked me with his elbow, smiling. "Never listen to the Mede."

I made a face at him, but he wasn't wrong. Even now, it still takes time to adjust to how much wider and much more interesting the world is when I am not limited by the perceptions of my former masters.

He led the way as if he'd been there a thousand times before, but I recognised the brief hesitations when we reached junctions, while he caught his bearings and moved on. He finally brought us to a stop in an open market square not far from the port and scanned the buildings around us.

"Ah!" 

His hand was at my elbow, pulling me away from the sight of the boats bobbing on the strikingly clear and flat sea.

The building he steered me into was larger than the houses we had passed on the way down. Drapes of cloth jutted out over the windows, shielding the occupants from the worst of the afternoon's heat, leaving the interior pleasantly cool.

A boy approached Costis, asking his business. I didn't hear what he said, too busy taking in the decoration. The walls were pale with murals painted directly onto the surface: dancing figures, animals, flowers winding their way around columns.

"Kay." Another touch at my elbow and we were moving again.

The boy led us up a staircase and into a larger room. A plump man was seated behind an ornate desk and looked up with a smile.

"Ah! You must be the scribe and his man come from Eddis," he said in strongly-accented Eddisian, rising. "I am Callister, Master of this province. You are most welcome."

I didn't need the palm at the base of my back to know to step forward. "My papers, sir." I held out my credentials, then bowed politely, not as deeply as I would have once, but enough to pass for a common traveller on the little peninsula. "I apologise for the delay in our arrival. There was a snowstorm on our descent."

Callister waved a hand. "Say no more, say no more." He leafed through my papers and when he next spoke, it was in perfect Attolian. "We have a house arranged for you on the west side of the city. I will advise them to expect you at the temple tomorrow morning, so you have time to rest from your travels."

I nodded gratefully. "I hope I will be of assistance."

Callister held up my papers. "I have no doubt of it." He bent over his desk, making his mark on the page and placing a seal on the page. Some kind of authorisation, I assumed, to work within the confines of his region. Once he was done, he folded the papers and returned them to me, then clapped his hands, summoning another boy. "Demos will take you to your accommodation."

After the quiet coolness of the building, the streets seemed so much louder and busier. I walked alongside the boy, fighting the urge to look back and make sure Costis was still there behind me. I was so used to him being at my side, leading the way, it felt strange to have someone else in his place.

It didn't help that the streets all looked the same. I felt like I was wandering in the labyrinth. Dozens of small narrow alleys and passages cobwebbed off from the square and after half a dozen turns, I was disorientated by all of the gleaming identical buildings.

"The colours on the corners," Costis said suddenly. "Street markers?"

"Yes, sir," the boy replied without breaking his pace.

I looked, baffled, for these mysterious colours. At the next junction of streets, I saw what Costis must have noticed straight away: at the corner of the wall, close to eye-level for the average person, there was a panel of colour as long as my forearm and two handspans wide. Two colours met on each corner.

Costis moved a step closer to me, bringing his head down to my ear on the side opposite the boy. "Don't worry. We won't be lost forever. You won't need a ball of twine."

I snorted and he stepped back in time to avoid my nudge.

Seven colours later, the boy stopped in front of yet another white building and presented me with a heavy key. "Your house, sir."

I can't express the feeling that hit me then. I don't even know if I understood it myself, as I stared down at the key in my hand. It didn't matter that it was provided by Eugenides. It didn't matter that I was only going to be there as long as I was needed there. 

It was a house and it was for me.

Costis must have noticed, because when I came back to myself the boy was gone and Costis's hand was on my shoulder.

"Shall we go in?"

I nodded blankly and put the key into the lock.

The house was as simple as its neighbours, though I had no idea if they all had an open courtyard in the middle of the building that was bright with sunlight. I could see a small fountain there and patterned tiles on the floor.

As I drifted through the house, I almost felt as if I was watching through the eyes of a stranger, seeing this place that was to be mine.

It had been looked after and cleaned in readiness for use, but there was a staleness in the air that said it had been empty for some time. A roofed terrace circled the small courtyard and rooms opened off it on all sides.

"I think this might be yours."

I walked in a daze to Costis's side. He was standing in the doorway of a small room at the front of the building, to the side of the main door. It only had one window which looked out into the quiet street but was nonetheless flooded with light. There was a small desk set below the window and along the wall, a rack for scrolls and shelves for books. A box lay on the desk and I didn't have to open it to know my friend - my king - had ensured I would have everything I needed for my task.

The kitchen was in the west side of the house and to my surprise, there was even a small bathroom beside it. There was a slight slant to the floor and a gutter let out under a smaller door at the far side of the room. That door opened out into a courtyard, lined with a number of doors like mine. In the middle of the courtyard, there was a well. A series of bricked gutters ran alongside the wall of each house to drain any water away from the well.

"Practical," Costis observed.

The sleeping quarters in the north side with wider windows and view of much of the city and the mountains beyond. There were two large rooms, each with a bed and a place for a storage chest, but they were linked by an open doorway, divided by a curtain. 

The final rooms at the east and front sides of the house were some kind of parlours or dining rooms, equipped with couches and low tables in place of chairs. The colourful murals depicted men hunting peculiar animals on horseback. It was nothing like I had known. 

Some part of me still recoiled at the foreignness of it all, but I knew that was habit now, uncertainty in the face of the unknown. A little time and it would feel as familiar as Attolia.

"It's bigger than I expected," Costis said suddenly, at my side.

I nodded in agreement. After caves and rocky beds and cabins barely big enough to stand with both arms outstretched, there was so much space and it was mine. No. It was ours.

He was watching me and I could feel the metal of my bracelet press into my fingertips.

"Too much?" he asked gently.

"A lot," I managed.

He ruffled my hair with one hand. "It could be worse," he said. "This looks like a normal house here. He could have put us somewhere much bigger." I nodded again and he smoothed my ruffled hair. "I'll fetch some water so you can clean up. If you can start a fire in the kitchen, we can get the water hot."

By the time I had scrubbed the stink of days of unceasing travel off my skin, the exhaustion that had been building for days struck me like a runaway cart. I mumbled an apology to Costis as I stumbled towards one of the bedrooms. The linens weren't even unfolded, but I didn't care. I sprawled out on my belly and was asleep in seconds.

I don't know how long I slept, but it was dark when I stirred.

For a split-second, I didn't know where I was and I squinted into the darkness, my heart racing. There was a lamp beside my bed and little by little, the room came into focus. I was on my bed in my house in Roa. Strange that the thought made my heart skip a beat.

I pushed off the sheets I couldn't remember drawing over myself and picked up the lamp to venture into the house.

I could see light from the room at the front of the house, so I made my way in that direction. Costis was lying on one of the couches and I hesitated where I was when I realised what he was reading by the light of another lamp: my scroll.

I might have stood there until he was done, but I caught the scent of food and my stomach growled, letting Costis know I was awake and present.

Costis sat up immediately, rolling up the scroll, and smiled. "There you are. I was starting to wonder if the journey had killed you."

"Just sleeping," I replied, padding across the floor. "I didn't mean to interrupt you."

Costis waved my words away. "Anticipation will make it sweeter," he said, then leaned forward to uncover a few of the dishes. 

He must have found his way to the market while I was asleep. There was fresh bread, cheese, wine, oil, vegetables, even a beautifully seared piece of fish. I set down the lamp and reached for the fish at once, then hesitated, seeing he had no plate.

"I ate while you were asleep," he explained. "You know I like my food."

I ate like a starving animal. We’d had a modest breakfast before we started on the road for the day, but with Roa in sight and finding our house and all the building fatigue, I hadn't even thought about eating.

Costis settled back on the couch, opening out the scroll again.

In the time it took me to finish, he had finished reading the scroll and rolled it up, replacing it in its tube.

"I think you needed that," he said with a wry smile as I sucked the juices from my fingertips.

"If this is the kind of food we are to live on, I fear for my belt," I admitted.

Like a magician revealing his final trick, Costis whipped away a cloth that had covered a plate I hadn't even noticed. I gave a small, pitiful moan at the sight of sweet cakes that looked very like the honey-covered nutcakes of Attolia.

Costis refilled my glass with wine and filled his own. 

"To celebrate your new home," he said, smiling.

"My new home," I echoed and if my eyes stung, I swear it was only against the brightness of the lamp flames.


	10. Chapter 10

The landscape was perfect to keep eyes on the sea. 

Costis could appreciate why Eugenides had chosen to place them there, rather than anywhere else. The sea between Roa and the Mede empire was smooth and flat. According to some of the locals, it was rare to have storms like the middle sea. 

The city itself was scattered across hillsides that curved down towards the bay. The temple stood on the one great cliff that jutted out from the land into the sea like the prow of a ship. If the houses in the town shone in the sun, the temple gleamed, its polished white frontage maintained by a determined team of caretakers. It didn’t look as large as the temples of Attolia, but it was deceptively modest until you entered.

On their first full day in Roa, Costis had escorted Kamet to the temple in the role of his assistant, carrying his box of pens, inks and tools. He could see the mounting dismay on Kamet’s face as they approached the surprisingly small building.

He didn’t know which of them was more surprised when they stepped in from the brilliant morning sunlight and saw what the temple was hiding.

The entrance opened into a wide pale staircase, blades of sunlight cutting through windows cut into the roof high above, reflecting on stone that was polished to a sheen. It was a well of light, the great chamber round and deep, the ceiling an ornately-carved dome high above.

The stairs led down into the hillside itself, as if the Gods had carved the building out in times gone by, branching off in three directions. Torches hung in sconces, but they were hardly needed. Light shone in through narrow windows carved into the cliff face, striping the halls and walls as they passed.

The young acolyte who was their guide smiled at their awe as he led them to a vast room lined with tables and people. It was brighter than the others, with mirrors reflecting the light from the windows cut into the cliff face. Costis stared around at them. They were all uneven and misshapen, as if they had just widened openings in the cliff to give themselves daylight.

“Gods preserve us…” Kamet breathed. 

“It was a temple before the building above us,” the acolyte said helpfully. “This place has been ours for a long time.” 

Costis nodded, going to one of the windows to try and get his bearings. He hadn’t noticed any such windows in the cliff. It was something he should have spotted. When he returned to Kamet, Kamet was unrolling his bundle of pens on a desk by one of the narrow windows.

“This is where I’m to work,” he said, looking up at Costis, pleasure lighting his face. 

Costis smiled. “Then I will leave you to it.” He nodded towards the door. “Shall I come and fetch you in the evening?”

“Unless you want me to get hopelessly lost,” Kamet agreed.

Costis chuckled. “This evening, then.”

Stepping back out into daylight was dazzling after the dimmer halls of the building. Costis raised his hand to shield his eyes and considered his choices. All the way from the north, he’d turned over reasons and excuses for scouting the local area for good viewpoints. A man didn’t simply go walking around the countryside for no reason.

The answer had come to him in the mountains to the east of Eddis. He’d watched Kamet studying the trees and plants as they’d passed by and it had reminded him of a conversation in the middle of the Mede empire about the gardens of Attolia.

Their house was small and had no place for a garden, it was true, but it did have the pleasant little courtyard in the middle of it. With the fountain working and a few small plants, it might be close enough.

So Costis set out for the hills that flanked the town.

Every day, he roamed high and low, a satchel slung on one shoulder. He came back thorn-pricked and green-stained, his satchel brimming with leaves and cuttings. It earned him amused looks, which was good. If anyone - any enemy - had eyes in Roa, they would see an enthusiastic naturalist with his samples. 

As far as he could tell, no one was looking beyond it. No one had spotted him making sketched maps of the coast and carefully marking the new viewpoints. If anyone saw him scribbling on papers, he turned it into botanical sketches, which he thrust at them with so much enthusiasm that they immediately found somewhere else to be.

There was something familiar about it, even if it had been years since he had last held a sickle or gathered the harvest in or fetched in the herbs for his sister. It was a lifetime ago, but now, it served him well, a fitting profession to hide his true reason for being there.

Some of the plants were the same and those were the ones he immediately started gathering. Others were less so and to the delight of the local apothecary, he made an effort to find out what they were and whether they were useful. It was easier than ending up stung and covered in blisters. 

More than once, he was compensated for his efforts with a drink at one of the shore side taverns. The fact that the drink was accompanied by an interesting collection of local gossip, news and information was happy coincidence. 

It was a useful source to cultivate. That was why Kamet returned from the temple scarcely a week after their arrival to find Costis balanced precariously on a stool, hanging bundles of herbs from the beams of the terrace surrounding the courtyard.

“What are you doing?”

Costis pulled a string tight, then glanced over his shoulder. “The apothecary and I have come to an agreement, since he’s too old to go hunting in the hills himself. He prefers his plants dried, so I thought we could hang them here.”

Kamet had a strange expression on his face. “From the beams?”

Costis hopped down from the stool, dusting his hands. “With the amount of sun there, I thought they’d dry out more quickly.”

Kamet nodded, but he was staring up at the beams. His hands were wrapped around the strap of his satchel, squeezing so hard his knuckles were white, and he walked forward, still staring. 

Costis watched him carefully. The rest of the plants had never got that reaction. The pot in the courtyard that would eventually hold a small orange tree had earned a smile. The window box of fresh herbs in Kamet’s study - painted on the outside in red and cream - had made Kamet declare with mock-indignation that he felt like such fragrant herbs were a comment on his aroma. Even the tangled length of vine had made him laugh, especially when Costis had to call for help to free his hands.

“I can take them down,” Costis offered, wondering what story was going untold. “If you’d prefer me to dry them in the kitchen.”

Kamet shook his head. “Don’t.” His voice sounded strained. “Please.” 

He didn’t say anything more, turning and hurrying around the terrace to his room. He closed the door behind him with a finality that told Costis any company would be unwelcome. 

Costis stared at it, then looked back at the remaining bundles of herbs that were still waiting to be hung. “Damn it,” he muttered under his breath.

Still, Kamet had said to leave them, so Costis climbed back on the stool and finished hanging the remaining bundles. They swung slowly in the breeze, knocking against each other, and he gazed up at them, wondering what they had reminded Kamet of.

It couldn’t be Nahuseresh’s household. Kamet had been too high ranking among the slaves to be responsible for tending the kitchen herbs. Maybe in his youth, he had been. Or maybe it was from some time before…

Costis looked at Kamet’s door, then swore again, shocked with himself for not realising sooner. Gods above and below, he wanted to go and apologise for raking up the past unexpectedly, but the door was shut and if Kamet didn’t want to be intruded on, then Costis respected him enough to leave him be.

Costis retreated into the kitchen to finish preparing their meal, though he wasn’t sure if Kamet would even have any appetite anymore. He stirring a small pot of sauce when he heard light footsteps behind him. 

“I’m sorry,” Kamet said quietly.

Costis fought the impulse to turn. “There’s nothing for you to apologise for. I surprised you. It was my fault.”

A few footsteps closer. Kamet was only an arm’s length away.

“My mother’s house was small,” Kamet said. His voice was distant and when Costis looked over his shoulder, he wasn’t surprised that Kamet was staring at a point beyond the walls, as if he could see into the past. “The beams were low. She would string the herbs from them. I- in the night, in the breeze, I watched them spinning.” He shook his head slowly. “I can remember the smell of the herbs, but I- her face. I can’t remember her face.”

The grief in Kamet’s voice was like a blow. Costis set down the spoon he was holding and turned around. “I’m sorry.”

Kamet made an abortive gesture with one shaking hand. “You didn’t know.”

Costis closed the distance between them and laid his hands on Kamet’s shoulders. “Now, I do.” He gently drew on Kamet’s shoulders and wasn’t surprised when Kamet swayed into his embrace, leaning against him. Kamet wrapped his arms around Costis’s middle and his fingers sank into Costis’s back. He was shaking from the force of his silent sobs. Had he ever had the chance to grieve before, Costis wondered. Had he ever wanted to?

It was a long time until Kamet hiccupped and pulled back one hand to scrub at his face.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Costis murmured.

Kamet managed a watery smile. “I know. It’s just-” He shook his head. “It- this- it reminded me of what home was. I didn’t- I never expected to see it again.”

Costis’s throat felt tight with emotion and he wrapped his arms around Kamet, pulling him close. “If you want this to be home, it is,” he said gruffly, close to Kamet’s ear. “You know I will make it so.”

There was another moist hiccup from the smaller man, then Kamet looked up at him. His eyes were still wet and bloodshot, but he was still smiling. “Your home too?”

Costis snorted. “I planted an orange tree for us. It’s already home for me.”

To his surprise, for the first time since the mountains, Kamet leaned up and kissed him firmly on the mouth. It tasted of salt and Costis tightened his arm around Kamet’s waist, pulling him closer. Somewhere warm and safe and comfortable, he remembered.

Kamet was the one to break them apart, pushing Costis back with a palm to his chest. “I’m hungry.”

Costis stepped back and rolled his eyes dramatically. “So demanding,” he said in as an aggrieved a tone as he could manage. 

“Only where no one can see,” Kamet reminded him, his expression brighter. He sat down on the stool beneath the window, crossing his ankles beneath it. “Do you mind?”

Costis smiled at him. “I’d be worried if you stopped.” He picked up a few olives from the counter and tossed them to Kamet. “You were back early today.”

Kamet made an eloquent face. “They told me they wanted to close the temple for their services to the Gods tonight. It’s not done for a man to work when the Gods are there, so they asked me to leave my work and rest for the night.”

Costis stifled a laugh. “I see. Only the Gods can send you from your labours.”

Kamet chewed an olive, then spat the pit out into his palm, considered it and flicked it at Costis. He ducked. “To hear that from the man who walks the hills and then spends the evening filling our house with plants he has found?”

Costis stirred up the pot of sauce again. “How else am I meant to make you a garden?”

Kamet blinked owlishly up at him. “A garden?”

Costis couldn’t stay the laughter this time. “What did you think I was doing?”

Kamet shook his head and waved his hands helplessly. “Strange Attolian things! Plants in boxes in the house? I have never seen that!” he said. “I- it-” He shook his head in confusion. “You’re making a garden?”

“Trying to,” Costis admitted. “It won’t be very big, but you’ll have a tree and flowers and your fountain.”

“But why?”

Costis looked over at him with a smile. “Because you liked Attolia’s gardens.” He considered Kamet and the emotions all over the other man’s face. “If you plan to pelt me with more olive pits, I’ll fight back.”

Kamet stirred the olives in his palm with a fingertip. “It’s tempting,” he admitted. “Why would you do that? The garden?”

“Why did you write your scroll?”

One side of Kamet’s mouth turned up. “Ah.”

Costis lifted the pot off the flame. “Exactly.”


	11. Chapter 11

The temple library was closing up after the noon bells.

“A holy day,” Enio, my desk mate, explained as we cleared up our equipment. “They say it’s for the Lady of the Bay.”

I hadn’t heard of the holiday or of the lady, but that wasn’t really surprising. Most of my first few weeks in Roa had been spent in the library, making myself useful. “Is she a local goddess?” I asked, rolling up the bundle that held my best pens.

“A spirit, I think.” Enio frowned. He was one of the first people to reach Roa from the court of the Duke of Ferria, although from the first moment I had heard him speak, I knew he was not Ferrian from birth. He spoke well, but some of his inflections and sentence structure was too studied and careful. “They honour her every year to keep the sea calm and the fishing plentiful.” 

“Ah.” Many places had such a spirit. 

“There will be feasting down at the bay,” he added. He glanced at me. “You could join us. You always work too hard.”

I made a sound of demurral, slipping my pouch of pens into my satchel. “I work well enough.”

“Too hard,” he insisted, grinning. He was missing one of his eye teeth and it had been replaced with a gold one instead. As the second son of a wealthy noble, he liked his luxuries, even if I privately thought it was ostentatious. 

It explained why he worked less than the rest of us. His scrolls were beautifully-rendered when he bothered, but his attention span was lacking and most afternoons, he spent daydreaming or talking or wandering off whenever the mood took him. More than once, he’d been found snoring on the upper terrace of the temple and chastised for it, but it didn’t seem to affect him. Those born to power and wealth were used to doing as they please.

I studied him. 

With all that had happened, it was impossible to know whether he could be trusted at all. I had trusted Laela and Eugenides and both of them had played me for a fool. It was possible there was more to him than this extravagant and lazy man he presented. His accent certainly suggested it. Maybe it was as clever a façade as Eugenides’s sandal-cleaner, while he gathered information for his Duke. If so, then he was a useful person to speak with.

If not, he was from high within the court at Ferria. It was likely he would hear gossip more readily than we did. Any gossip might carry nuggets of news and news was useful, whether to Costis and I or to our king.

I could never profess to missing Nahuseresh’s household, but I had been raised in the whispers and intrigue. They were like tiny hooks in your mind and once you had been trained in those ways, they were hard to escape. Instinct and habit demanded knowledge and useful information.

“Your friends might not appreciate a scribe joining you,” I said, knowing that such token resistance could be easily brushed aside.

“Ha!” Enio waved a hand imperiously. “They will be too far into their cups to care.” He circled the desk and flung his arm around my shoulders. “I want to be sure you can leave this place and don’t burn up into a cinder the moment you’re away from your work.”

At least one of us would, I thought dryly, as I fluttered my hands in a show of obvious hesitation. “It would not be too much trouble?”

“No.” Enio was already steering me towards the door. It was genial, at least, which was better than some. He was a cheerful soul, even if he was as much use as a wineglass made of sand. 

He chattered all the way up the broad, winding steps, and didn’t even hesitate before pulling me out into the sunlight. We both squinted against the light and he gave a shout of delight. 

“They have banners up! And boats!”

I peered over the cliff’s edge. It was too far for me to make out details, but if even I could see the specks of colour dotted on the crystal blue of the sea, then there had to be many and probably quite large too. Indifference was rapidly giving way to intrigue. I had never attended a Roan festival before.

“Let’s go down,” I said and Enio smiled, nodding eagerly.

The streets were much busier than usual. Families bustled by, children bobbing behind their mothers like ducklings in a row. Shutters were already closed on many of the shops, making it clear that no more business was going to be done, and as we neared the market square that led to the bay, the noise was rising. Stalls and stands filled the square. The scent of food rose from all directions: fish grilled over coals, sweet fruits cut in slices and stacked high, fresh bread lathered with honey.

I hesitated there, wondering if Costis had heard about the festival or if I should go and find him. It was the middle of the day. He would not be in the house and if I went looking, I was more likely to get lost in the labyrinth of tiny streets than find him. He might even be out in the hills, which would make a search even more futile.

Enio pulled me onwards, calling out that he had seen his friends. I held my satchel closer, tightening my grip. Festival it may be, but a perfect place for pickpockets to dip their fingers into bags then vanish into a crowd.

To my surprise, Enio led me right out of the main square.

His friends had apparently managed to commandeer one of the boats tied up at the dock. It was an elegant affair, more for decoration and pleasure sails than a sea voyage. As Enio had predicted, they had clearly been enjoying the amphoras that were scattered around the deck.

“Come aboard! Come aboard!” Enio insisted, tugging on my arm. There was no gang-plank, but the boat was lying low and I managed to hop down onto the deck without pitching myself into the water. “Come, you must meet everyone.”

Names rattled over me and out of habit, I looked at each person and scored name and face into my memory. Another lesson hard-learned, that. Most were high-born men of Ferria and the north. A few were sons of merchants, but rich enough merchants to allow them the pleasure of noble company.

I was the fig on a platter of plums, but I had a lifetime of experience of making myself quiet and unnoticed. While Enio and his friends poured more drinks, passed around plates of local delicacies and talked and laughed, I settled on one of the benches, smiling politely, and listened. At some point, one of Enio’s friends pressed a glass into my hand, and I made a show of sipping it from time to time, but this was no time to be drunk.

Mostly, they talked of nonsense, but every so often, I heard something that made my ears prick up: disruptions for the trading ships in the middle sea, speculation about a blockade from the Mede because of the stubborn little peninsula, no more fine silks until it was all done with. It was all foolishness, they agreed. After all, how were they meant to maintain their reputations if they we wearing the same robes as last year.

I drank in everything they were saying, considering how dismissive the larger peninsula had been about the threat of a Mede invasion. If trade routes were being disrupted, that usually meant there was other activity taking place. If I was right, then it could well mean that the Greater Powers might be moving. Discreetly, it was true, enough to annoy their spoiled and selfish sons.

I took another sip of wine as the talk turned to speculation about the Braels. In the way of the very drunk, the young men talked loudly and enthusiastically about the hairy ruffians from the north. They lived in huts made of dung, one declared. They married their own sisters, another added. All tales that civilised people told one another, passing voice by voice down the boat.

All at once, they were all looking at me and I blinked foolishly.

“Come, Kay!” Enio said, laughing. “Tell us what you know of the Braels!”

I tightened my hands around the glass and smiled as if such things amused me. I, at least, could offer a truth for their little game. “When they bathe, they roll around in the snow afterwards.”

There was a slow silence as they considered this, then a great roar of laughter.

“In the snow!”

“Like animals!”

I had said enough to entertain them for a time so they went back to talking and bellowing at each other. I settled back against the edge of the boat, warm in the sunlight, and took another sip of the wine.

My hosts were not the only ones making a noise on the bay.

Tiny boats bobbed all around us. Some were still linked to the quay by trailing ropes, while others were skimming about on the water. People were in good spirits and it was almost enough to distract me when the conversation turned to a Ferrian ambassador who had been replaced in the Mede empire.

One of them - a merchant's son named Marco - gleefully regaled the news he had heard from one of his father's captains, who had heard it from one of his sailors, who had seen it himself with his own two eyes.

Some of the others hooted and roared down such a boring and political topic, but Marco shouted over all of them that they would want to know the details, since the old ambassador had been escorted to the docks at Ianna-Ir in a formal procession. Marco babbled enthusiastically about the clothing and the riches all the men were wearing and the beautiful women who escorted them, but there was fact in the nonsense.

The ambassador had returned to his ship with all of his embassy staff. That would not be unusual to some, but I knew that the Ferrian embassy changed different staff members in rotation every two years. If the Ambassador had withdrawn with all staff, something was amiss. 

I could remember the last Ferrian ambassador well. He was an older man, large and genial, of surprisingly humble origins. At the time, I'd found his abundant smiles for me - as my master's mouthpiece - overly friendly. He had always pressed me to share a drink or take a sweet cake when I waited. Then, I had thought it bribery, encouragement to win my favour and in doing so, be provided with useful intelligence, but now I wonder if it was simply kindness as well. He was that sort of man

"He was dressed like a king, they said," Marco insisted, waving his glass. 

Sessipus, one of the higher ranking in the group, snorted dismissively. "You can cover a sack of onions in silk, but it won't stop being a sack of onions. That's why they sent Octavius the Elder in his place. Ferria needed to show its quality."

I searched my memory for the name, recalling the Duke of Ferria's former Minister of State. He was of a distinguished rank and high birth that would delight the Emperor, even though most people considered in him a doddering fogey, past his prime, but he had served as Ferria's minister for decades. 

Old he might be, but I had learned never to underestimate aged people, especially politicians. A shrewd choice, that one. Retired, venerable, high-ranking. It could be a token position, but Ferria was astute. Octavius had been sent for a reason.

In case they mistook my silence, I cocked my head and said as loudly and drunkenly as I could, "The ambassador is a sack of onions?" 

They roared with laughter, but none of them even noticed I had barely drunk half of the wine in my glass. I smiled a little wider and pretended to take another mouthful. They were still hooting with mirth when a shadow fell over the deck.

Someone was standing on the dock above me and the rest of my companions shouted out a mix of insults and cheerful welcomes. I twisted on my seat to look up and shouldn't have been surprised to see Costis standing there, arms crossed over his chest.

I was almost tempted to call him down to join us, but Costis wasn't a man skilled at dissembling, even if the company I was keeping seemed stupefied with drink. 

"You're needed elsewhere, Kay," he said abruptly. 

There was something in his expression that I recognised when he glanced along at each of my companions. By the Gods, he was almost vibrating with hostility, which was absurd when there was no threat. Even if there was a spy among the throng, they were gaining no information from me, and yet he stood there like a watchdog, almost growling.

"Kay," he repeated and instinct almost made me rise at the command in his voice. 

The shock of that was enough to make me force my body to remain in its place.

I was a free man now. He knew that as well as I. 

In this place, we were known as Kay the scribe and his man, Aolaus. Everyone knew that of us. We had made certain to maintain the roles, play the parts, and now, in a fit of anger, he was giving orders and threatening to undo that carefully-made facade.

"I'm enjoying the festival with my friends here," I said as calmly as I could. "I'll join you later."

His fingers tightened on his upper arms. "It's important."

Several of my companions feigned horror, tugging at one another's robes. "It's important!" they twittered to one another, and I could see the colour rising in Costis's face. He was on edge and angry and Gods damn him, he was about to make an idiot of himself.

"Your pardon," I said to Enio. I set down my glass. "Excuse me a moment."

Costis offered his hand to help me out the boat, but I ignored him. I wanted to snap at him, shake him, but I - unlike Costis - knew the importance of choosing a time and place to act like an imbecile. 

I didn't pause to see of Costis was following me through the crowd. I broke out of it, walking towards a narrow street that seemed to be deserted. I stopped there, clenching and unclenching my hands until I heard his footsteps behind me.

"You-" he began.

I whirled around furiously. "Are you trying let the world know we are not who we say?" I snarled, quiet enough that only he would hear. "What in the name of all the Gods do you think you were doing?"

He took a step back, the tense anger in his face vanishing like mist, replaced with confusion and surprise. "I've had my eye on those men for a while now. I didn't think it was safe for you to get drunk with them."

"Didn't think it was safe..." I echoed, staring at him. As if I was oblivious to the threat I still lived under. As if I was too naive to realise people not unlike those who had enslaved me might be a threat. Gods have mercy, I had never felt such outrage in my life. "I barely touched a drop! Do you think I'm such a fool as that?"

Costis flushed. "No! It- they-" He pressed his hand to his brow. "Gods, Kamet, I'm trying to protect you!"

"By flapping about like a mother hen around a chick?" I jabbed a finger at his chest, the best I could do to vent my growing indignation. "You know I'm not weak. You know I'm not a fool. Why are you treating me like both?"

He stared at me, open-mouthed. "I'm not!" he protested. "They- I don't trust them!"

I stepped closer to him, glaring up at him. "Then trust _me_. I have lived in the shadow of men like that my whole life. I _know_ their kind. I can protect myself from rich drunken fools."

"Kamet-" he began again and I knew whatever he was about to say would only make things worse.

I grabbed the front of his tunic, pulling him down to my level. "I said trust me," I said, my voice low, trying to cover my frustration. My hands were shaking and I could remember his fingers on my throat as he squeezed the life from me. He would never harm me, not now, but my feigned anger then and his response still lingered in my memories, like ripples from a pebble dropped in a pool. "I know what I'm about."

We stood there, balanced on a knife-edge, for seconds that felt like an eternity.

His eyes were fixed on mine. His tongue darted out to wet his lip. “I trust you.”

I was still holding his tunic and with effort I uncurled my fingers and stepped back. He didn’t straighten up at once. “Don’t come back to the dock. I need you to stay out of their sight.”

I knew he wanted to ask what I was up to, but to his credit, he didn’t. He only straightened up and nodded. “I’ll see you at the house later?”

I nodded curtly, then strode passed him, trying to ignore my heartbeat, a rapid hum against the inside of my ribs. I paused on the edge of the crowd, took a breath, then plunged back in, weaving my way back towards the dock.

Enio was the first to spot me and rose, swaying, from his cushioned seat. “Kay! Not so important, hey?”

I gave a snort of frustration and stepped down into the boat again, making sure to seem unsteady on my feet. “New bottles of ink have arrived and he thought I would want to see them now.” I peered around, searching for my glass. Another one was pressed into my hand instead, so full it slopped over the rim. “Ah!”

“You should give him a thrashing,” one of the men declared from the far end of the boat. Leonas, son of some minor Archduke in Ferria, I remembered. He laughed too loudly. “You might need to make him kneel first.”

I smiled too brightly, wishing I could get away with tossing the wine in his face. “Better I put him on his knees to clean every inch of my house before I get back.” I sprawled back down on the cushioned seat. “I don’t like to be interrupted.”

Enio burst out laughing. “Not at work or at play, eh, Kay?” he said, grinning. 

I smiled like I meant it, raised my glass, and we saluted the Lady of the Bay as we rocked on the waves.


	12. Chapter 12

Costis had always hated feeling useless.

Even keeping an eye on Kamet on that boat from a distance didn’t help. He’d wandered into enough taverns in their two weeks in Roa to hear stories and even cross paths with a few of the men that Kamet had chosen to spend time with. 

Several of them had slaves. At least one of them had a reputation for treating them badly.

Costis had seen those scars on Kamet’s back too many times now to give any regard to someone who would do such a thing to one who had no means to fight back.

Trust me.

That was what Kamet had asked of him, eyes blazing, face flushed with anger and passion. Even if Costis clenched his fists until it hurt and it felt like his bones were trying to break through his knuckles, he could and would grant Kamet that wish. 

Gods above, he had only seen Kamet so angry once before and even then, there were bars between them and so much that had gone unsaid. 

Costis swore under his breath and pushed his fingers through his hair. 

Maybe he was fussing like a mother hen, as Kamet had said, but he could too clearly remember his king sitting in a place that seemed so tranquil and calm. He could remember the stillness shattered. He could remember the blood on the grass and in the water and on the king’s hook and on his clothes and the wound that had almost gutted him.

Kamet wasn’t Eugenides. Kamet didn’t have the skills to take down a group of enemies if they attacked him.

And yet…

Costis peered between the supports of one of the stalls to the boat, where Kamet was smiling with men who made Costis’s skin crawl. There was no reason for him to mix with people like that, not when he had made it clear he was aware exactly who they were. 

He had walked himself into a snake-pit of potential enemies but acted as if he didn’t mind. It brought to mind a throne room and a man who was considered a fool by everyone with his outlandish clothes, foreign behaviour and rudeness. Eugenides had fooled them all then. Kamet…

Kamet had lived with masks upon masks, propriety his uniform, etiquette his weapon. 

He had been Nahuseresh’s eyes and ears with no one being any the wiser. He had talked innkeepers into offering shelter in the Empire, fooled the slavers in the desert and the guards in Zaboar. He was the man who had pieced together a thousand scattered bits of information to work out where the Mede navy was hidden and thanks to him, it had been destroyed.

One side of Costis’s mouth turned up. 

Trust me, indeed.

Even if it was tempting to loiter and keep his eyes on the docks, if Kamet said he knew what he was about, then Costis believed him. After all, it was thanks to Kamet’s skills in a role that he been his life that they both got out of the Empire alive. He knew how to act and what to do and whatever he was up to, there was a reason for it.

Costis pushed his fingers through his hair again.

The bay was too thick with boats for them to sweep him away, and even if that was a possibility, he could tell how drunk and red-faced the men were. This wasn’t a time or place to stage an abduction of a useful bargaining chip.

Kamet knew what he was doing.

It still took more resolve than Costis liked to admit to turn his back on the docks. He wandered among the stalls, picking up a few novelties here and there and some of the unusual festival foods, but when it became too tempting to look back at the dock, he took his purchases and set out in the direction of the house.

The streets were mercifully quiet. It seemed like the whole town had cascaded down the hillside to fill the square and the bay. Festivities could be entertaining, but there was something to be said for a quiet afternoon, undisturbed and out of the heat.

In the peace of the house, he sifted through the trinkets he had picked up. A few of them were strange little toys, no doubt meant for children, but that had amused him enough he knew he had to show them to Kamet as well. 

His one little luxury was a finely-crafted pen that looked like it was made of mother-of-pearl, beautifully carved and delicate. It was probably useless as a pen, but it was beautiful and Kamet didn’t have enough beautiful things in his life.

Costis took it through to Kamet’s small study. 

As always, it was all neat and organised. Papers were stacked on one side of the desk beside the summary of their past journey. Every evening, while there was still daylight, Kamet spent at least an hour adding a little more to it. He wasn’t precious about it, but he always got flustered when Costis tried to read it.

Costis wasn’t surprised. The early days of their relationship had been filled with so much confusion on both sides, neither of them understanding the other. Things had come a long way since then, but even now, there was still confusion to be had.

It would have been so easy to read the whole thing in Kamet’s absence, but if Kamet wanted to share it, he would.

Costis laid the pen down on top of the topmost page, straightening it to align with the edge of the parchment, then withdrew and returned to his collection of trinkets.

His favourite item was a complicated arrangement of delicate wires and glass beads that the stall owner had vowed would ward off ill spirits. The beads were a brilliant shade of blue, the wire silver. He hung it in the window of the south-facing parlour, admiring the sparks of light that danced through the glass and across the painted walls like fireflies.

He glanced around the parlour, smiling at how unkempt it looked compared to their first days in the house.

There was a woven blanket trailing halfway off one of the couches where Kamet had left it after a night seated in front of the fireplace, draped like an acolyte, as he read some scroll he had borrowed from the temple. A few pens were in cup on one of the smaller tables. A trailing plant stood in a pot on a pedestal in the corner. 

There was even a lonely sandal poking out beneath the couch that Costis usually used. 

He snickered, remembering Kamet tossing it at him, when Costis had deliberately started reading from one of Kamet’s scrolls in his most rural Attolian accent. Kamet had rolled his eyes, shaking with laughter, so Costis had made his accent even stronger. 

When Kamet begged him - breathless with mirth - to stop and tried to snatch the scroll from him, Costis had held the scroll above his head, out of Kamet’s reach, and backed around the room, still reading.

Kamet lobbed a sandal at him, before scrambling over the table and couch, huffing. He had finally regained the scroll when Costis stumbled over a footstool and landed on his backside on the floor. Kamet sat himself firmly on Costis’s middle to stop him running away with it again. 

Costis looked down at the tabletop, grinning.

There was an inky footprint there, one that no amount of scrubbing could remove. Kamet hadn’t noticed it until it was dried in and Costis was secretly pleased about that. It made him smile every time he saw it.

It wasn’t only a house now, he thought with pleasure, as he bent to retrieve the sandal.

He considered the sandal, then looked around the room, wondering how to occupy himself until Kamet returned. 

When the front door eventually opened some time later, Costis was sitting on the tiles of the courtyard, working at removing a stubborn piece of dirt that was blocking the mouth of the fountain. He leaned back to peer around the pillar that hid him from the doorway.

“Kamet?”

“Costis?”

Costis got to his feet, brushing dirt off his hands. Against the bright light from outside, Kamet was little more than a silhouette. “I still can’t unblock that thrice-damned fountain,” he said, shaking his head. “I think we might need to get someone to do it.”

Kamet walked a few steps closer. The door swung shut behind him. “You’re here?”

Costis raised his eyebrows. “Yes?” He frowned. “Did- I thought you’d prefer it if I wasn’t around, in case they saw me.”

“You left me there?”

It felt like a question with no right answer, but then there was the most obvious answer in the world.

“You said you knew what you were doing,” he said with a crooked smile. “I might not have liked it, but I believed you.”

Kamet moved closer, staring at him. “You did.” He dropped his satchel to the floor and reached out, wrapping one hand around Costis’s arm. “You trusted me.”

“Of course I did,” Costis would have snorted, but Kamet’s palm was warm on his arm and Kamet was still staring at him as if he had raised the sun to the heavens himself. When Kamet curled his fingers in the front of Costis’s tunic and jerked him down again, Costis knew he would always bend so readily for the man before him.

When Kamet kissed him, it wasn’t like it had been before. There was demand in it now, want and urgency, and Costis almost reached for him at once, remembering in time what job he had been doing.

“I’m filthy,” he warned.

Kamet looked at him, then smiled and shook his head. “I don’t care.”

He was the one who undid Costis’s belt. He was the one who pulled Costis’s tunic up and over his head, throwing it aside. He was the one who took Costis’s hand and without any faltering or hesitation, led Costis towards his own bedchamber.

It was still lit by the reflected afternoon sunlight. Kamet, dishevelled and wind-swept, stood there, carefully undoing the buttons of his fine silk shirt. When he raised his eyes to Costis and smiled, Costis wondered if it was possible for a man’s heart to stop at a look.

“Kamet…” Costis began, half-afraid that it was only obligation, only gratitude, only anything but that look on Kamet’s eye. The heat was smouldering and Kamet’s lips thinned into a stern line.

“You keep talking too much,” he said. The last button came undone and he slipped the shirt off his shoulders, letting it drop. He didn’t even fold it. That made Costis’s breath catch. “I brought you in here. You came in here.” He stepped closer and when he touched Costis’s bare chest, Costis could feel the tremor in his hands. “I want you in here.”

“It’s-” Costis’s words were cut off when Kamet dragged him down to kiss him again, but he still managed to pull back enough to pant out, “It’s sudden.”

Kamet smiled at him, a wider and more dazzling smile than Costis had ever seen. “You trust me,” he said. “So much.”

Costis could only nod, drinking him in. “I do.”

Kamet’s eyes shone and he pushed Costis down onto the bed. “Good.”


	13. Chapter 13

I was woken by the gentle brush of fingers against my bare side.

It was a sensation so surprising and alien to me that I almost flinched, until I felt the warm skin under my cheek and the solid thighs that framed one of mine. _Costis_. His chest rose and fell as he breathed and I had to bite down on a foolish smile. 

The room was full of pale morning light, enough for me to see the far too narrow bed three paces away, and the mess of clothes and pillows and linens on the floor. There was a blanket beneath us as well and a sheet haphazardly trailing across us, though it barely covered either of us.

The night - and some of the day that had come before it, from the moment my foot had crossed our threshold - had been a rush of exhilaration, confusion, wonder and laughter. I could feel aches in places I had not even thought of before, but would not have given them up for the world. 

“I know you’re awake,” Costis murmured sleepily, a few moments later.

I moved the arm that was draped over his middle a little. “Mm.”

His fingertips traced in circles, but he didn’t touch my back. He hadn’t the previous night either, I thought, looking back. I hadn’t cared then, but now, with my senses returned to me, I could see where he had restrained himself. Perhaps it was out of respect or maybe the wish to keep from reminding me of darker times. The kindness of it stole my breath.

“You can touch,” I said quietly. “They don’t hurt.”

His arm tightened briefly around me and I felt the tension in his body. “Not today,” he demurred. “I-” There was a quiet, self-conscious puff of laughter against my hair. “They anger me and I don’t want to be angry now.”

I lifted my head, propping myself on the arm on the floor, and looked down at him. His eyes were hazy with sleep, but his expression was warm, and I brought up my hand from his chest to cup his cheek. “It’s done with. No need to be angry.”

“I know.” He turned his face to my hand and kissed my palm. When he looked back at me, he was smiling. “And we have more important things to worry about now.”

I moved away enough to push myself up onto my knees by his hip, but didn’t get any further. His arm snaked around my waist and I had no desire at all to break free of it. “What do we have to worry about?” I rested my forearm on his ribs, lightly.

“You.” He laughed when I gave him a sharp poke in the ribs. “I’m serious. I was terrified yesterday.”

That brought me up short. “You said you trusted me,” I said reproachfully.

“I do,” he replied and the earnestness was written all over his face. “It’s them I don’t trust.” He covered my wrist on his chest, his touch feather-light. “I almost convinced myself they were going to sweep you off to sea in that boat and take you back to the Mede.”

My heart felt tight. No wonder he had looked so angry and hostile when he had come to edge of the dock. Fear never showed on his face. He hid it too well. 

“You saw how full the bay was,” I said, spreading my hand on his chest. “If they tried to steal me away, I could have swum to any of the other boats.” I managed a quick smile and tapped him on the chest. “I _can_ swim now, after all.”

That made him smile. “So you can,” he agreed, stroking the back of my wrist. “If they had held you, though…” He shook his head, his expression sobering. 

It still amazes me how he can sweep away all thoughts in my head with such words and such looks. “I’m only a scribe in their eyes,” I finally said. I could feel his heart throbbing beneath my palm. “One who can’t hold his drink at that.” I brushed my fingers along his skin, smoothing short curls of fair hair. “The king sent me to be his eyes. I can be his ears too.”

Costis nodded. “I thought as much.” He drew a breath then exhaled it, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he looked up at me. “If you’re going to play these games with those people, I want to teach you some ways to defend yourself. Just in case anything happens with them.”

I blinked at him idiotically. “Defend myself?”

He nodded.

“With a weapon?”

“By whatever means necessary,” he replied. I can’t recall the last time I saw him so grave. “I want to know you’ll be coming home to me, even if I’m not there to guarantee it.”

 _Home to me_.

Shesmegah had truly taken me into her favour, giving me a man such as Costis.

My emotions must have showed on my face, because he propped himself up on one elbow and lifted his other hand to wrap around the back of my head. “After all,” he said, as grave as before, “no one else can tell me the rest of the Immakuk and Ennikar tales.”

I smacked him on the chest and sniffed hard and called him an inconsiderate oaf, which made him laugh. Since it had worked the night before, I pinned him down instead and words were forgotten for a time.

He was the first to rise from our makeshift palette on the floor some time later and I watched him, admiring the sheen of sweat on his skin and the way he stretched. I could have outlined each muscle with ink, I thought, and wondered how many I would manage if I tried when he was sleeping. 

“The temple is closed today,” I reminded him. I was sprawled out like a sated cat in sunlight, even if my body was warm and dewy with sweat. I dabbed at myself with the sheet, cleaning all that we had left behind on my skin. “There’s no need to rise so early.”

He gave me a look. “So early?” He looked towards the window, where we could both see the sun was well up. 

I shrugged shamelessly, basking in the desire I had allowed myself, the sheer pleasure of it all. “At all?” I suggested.

As if in response to my words, his stomach growled.

Both of us burst out laughing.

“I think that’s the matter decided,” Costis admitted, rubbing his belly. “You’ve helped me work up quite an appetite.” He jerked his head towards the door. “Do you want me to warm some water for a bath?”

I got up from the sheets and nodded, gesturing down at myself. “I think it may be needed.”

He gave me a virtuous look. “I’ll help.”

I couldn’t stop the grin. “So?”

He nodded but I could see his lips twitching in a desperate attempt to keep a straight face. “I’m a very helpful person.”

I crossed the floor to him and rose on my toes to pull his head down to kiss him. One of his hands moved to my waist at once, and I’m sure it was to keep me at arm’s length so he didn’t get distracted from his breakfast. 

“You will be thorough?” I asked, wide-eyed and innocent to a fault. 

Gods above, he blushed like a maid and I could feel my own colour returning as well. I wasn’t surprised when he caught me in another of those demanding, breath-stealing kisses.

“I’m never going to get anything done around here, am I?” He growled against my lips. He stepped back and held up a finger. “No. You go and wait somewhere else and I’m going to have breakfast because I’m not going to starve myself to death for want of you.”

He turned and strode away through the door. I think - hope - he didn’t see me hug myself like a lovestruck maid at first blush as soon as he was gone. To want and be wanted and to be able to act on those emotions was so unfamiliar. No approval required from a master. No watching over my shoulder for fear of the whip. Only warm hands and a firm body and demanding lips and my heart bursting from pleasure. 

It could never have been anyone but him, I thought. No one had seen me at best and worst, at my most fearful and pathetic, and still loved me. He did. He wasn’t sure how to say the words, but he’d said it well enough in the way he had touched me and kissed me and drawn a sheet over me when I slept.

I glanced down at myself, amused to realise that all I was wearing was the bracelet he had given me on the boat those many weeks ago. In the name of propriety, I swept the cleaner of the sheets off the floor and fashioned myself a kilt with it, then wandered through to the kitchen, where Costis was humming as he prepared our breakfast.

I paused in the doorway to watch him, smiling.

He looked happy, which made my chest swell with pleasure. I had made it so, as he had me smile. It was something I could never have foreseen. Nor the fact he was roaming the kitchen in naught but his skin, the reflected morning daylight making him glow in the dim room. He really was a very good-looking man.

He turned with the plates and jumped like a startled cat, swearing aloud as several pieces of bread scattered off his plate.

“You creep like a shadow!” he exclaimed.

I sniffed haughtily and bent to pick up the pieces of bread. “I can’t be blamed if you don’t pay attention to your surroundings.” I replaced the bread on the plate.

“I’m worn out.” Costis rolled his eyes. “Someone kept me awake half the night.”

I felt my face flame and grinned. “Is that what you told the king when you were in Attolia?”

It was so easy to make him redden and open and shut his mouth in indignation, which delighted me. I’d never imagined it as something a soldier would do. 

“You,” he informed me, “are a terrible person.”

I felt foolishly giddy with the knowledge as I leaned up until I was almost nose to nose with him and replied, “You like it.”

It felt like a current in the air, a charge like lightning, and had his stomach not made demanding sounds again, I think he might have dropped the plate and taken me in hand instead. One day, I decided as he straightened up and determinedly padded around me, I would win over food. 

I joined him in the parlour, carrying the last of the plates. He was settled on his couch and watched me as I went to mine. I knew why. If he was feeling even half of what I was feeling, it was like a dam that had finally given way after so long. I knew we would not be leaving the house for the day. Let them wonder if we were ill. Let them gossip. I didn’t care.

“We should start some training for you soon,” he said suddenly, breaking the heavy and hot silence that filled the room. “Some basic exercises.”

I nodded, wondering how someone so big could teach someone so much smaller. He would find a way, I knew. He was stubborn that way. He would find someone to teach me if he couldn’t do it himself. He would be sure I was strong enough to…

Come home to him.

Home.

He had called it that almost from the first day, but now he was right. It was home. It was our home. I must have made a sound or done something that caught his eye, because he cocked his head, watching me.

“Is everything all right?”

I smiled, looking over at him. How far we’d come: the slave and the man who had helped him to escape. We had slept by one another’s side so many times before, but last night felt like it was the first time. In a way it was. In our own home, in our new city, we had ended up sprawled on the floor as we had all the way across half a dozen countries, but it was different now. 

“Everything is fine,” I assured him, “but I think there’s something we need to find.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”

I nodded, knowing that the curtain between our rooms would be irrelevant from today. “A bigger bed.”

His face lit in a smile. “Yes.”

_______________________________

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading :) I hope you enjoyed the ride.


End file.
